


An Unlucky Fellow

by Destiel_Sabriel4eva



Series: Always Waiting [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Child Abuse, Drug Withdrawal, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gay Male Character, Homophobia, I mean I'm not saying it's happy, I'm adding tags as I think of them, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, M/M, Magic, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Suicidal Thoughts, The Golden Trio, This isn't as dark as that makes it seem, Torture, Werewolves, but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17240708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel_Sabriel4eva/pseuds/Destiel_Sabriel4eva
Summary: As Remus and Severus learn to deal with their losses, a boy grows up, ignorant to what could have been.





	1. An End, A Beginning, and A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter
> 
> Note:
> 
> This is a short story of Harry’s life set in the Always Waiting Series (Of which the first story is The Boy Who Never Cried Wolf) this won’t work unless you’ve read that first and the next story (The actual continuation of the last) equally won’t make sense if you do not read this one. It’s only short, 7 chapters long, but please enjoy 😊 More notes at the end explaining why the hell I’m doing this.

 

 

_Prologue…_

His first memory isn’t anything special.  His cousin Dudley is eating cake, nothing new or surprising there, even back then he remembers thinking it’s all old hat.

 

His second though, his second memory is of waking up from a nightmare.  A flash of green light seems to follow him into the waking world and from then on, a look at his eyes sends him spiralling into his own nightmares.  A mirror cracks once, he’s not sure how.  Uncle Vernon bans him from ever looking in one again as he locks him in his cupboard.  He finds he doesn’t mind this punishment, even if he _didn’t_ break the mirror.

 

His third memory, is of _her_.  He meets her at the park when his Aunt and Uncle take Dudley and he has to go with them.  A ball hits him and he falls to the ground, then a hand is grabbing him and pulling him up.  He flinches away and stares, trying to work out what is in front of him.

“Hi!  I’m Lillie,” The blob in front of him says cheerily.

“H-Hi,” He quietly replies, unused to being spoken to in such a manner.  Two bigger blobs come up behind the first.

“What’s your name?” Lillie asks.

He frowns, “I don’t know.”

Lillie moves, then one of the blobs shrinks down to his eye-level, “I’m Andrea Polka, Lillie’s Mom,” the blob tells him, speaking in a way he has never heard before, “Are those your parents over there?”  He looks over at where Andrea’s extending blob indicates and sees two blobs he’s trained himself to recognise as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon no matter how far away they are, though sometimes it’s very hard.

“What’s a parents?” He asks. 

The two blobs before him move to face each other before back at him, “A Mummy and Daddy,” Andrea explains.

His eyes brighten slightly, he knows that one, “No.  They’re Dudley’s Mummy and Daddy.  Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.”

“Are your par-erm- Mummy and Daddy here?” The as-of-yet unnamed Blob questions as Andrea moves off towards Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

“I don’t have them,” he replies.

“Everyone has a Mummy and a Daddy,” Lillie tells him.

He shrugs, “Not me.”

“Oh,” Lillie states, she brightens again quickly, “You can share mine!”

Andrea walks back over before anyone can respond to that, “Well, I found out your name,” She states, in a voice that to people over the age of four would have suggested she learnt a lot more than that and none of it was good.

“What is it?” Lillie and he ask at the same time.

“Harry.”

“Oh!  That’s like my Uncle Harry, ‘cept his name is really Henry, do you think your name is really Henry?” Lillie asks exuberantly.

Harry blinks, dazed, “I don’t know.”

“People call him Hank, too,” She continues as if he had never answered her question, “Do people call you, Hank?” Harry shakes his head.  “Can I?  It can be a friendname and only I call you it.”

Harry blinks in confusion, “Yes?”

Lillie beams at him, “We gonna be bestest friends for ever!” She claims as she hugs him.  Harry flinches but she holds tight.  She doesn’t hurt him though, so he relaxes.  “Come on, let’s play catch.”

“I don’t know how,” Harry admits.

Lillie remains unperturbed, “I’ll teach you.”

 

Lillie isn’t a great teacher, but her father kneels behind Harry, holding his hands and helping him catch the ball.  Eventually, Harry isn’t afraid of having the man so close, and even smiles and laughs.

He and Lillie run around and play right up until Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon call him over.

“We’ll play again, don’t worry, Hank,” Lillie tells him.  Harry doesn’t seem convinced. “Pinky promise we’ll always be friends no matter what.”  She sticks her pinky out.  Harry doesn’t know what that means, but he holds his pinky out too and follows her direction to link it with hers and shake exactly once, otherwise the promise is broken.  Or so Lillie claims.

Harry scratches his head, pushing back his hair from his face.  He hears Mrs and Mr Polka gasp slightly but has to go to his Aunt and Uncle and doesn’t question why.

 

 

Harry gets in trouble when he gets home.  He forgot he’s not supposed to play with other kids.  He’s a freak, he’s dirty, he’s not normal.  But then Uncle Vernon calls Lillie a freak too, so Harry takes that as permission to do it anyway.

It’s not until he’s in bed that night, rolling his name around in his head as he marvels at even knowing it, that he realises he has no idea where she lives and so he can’t ever see her again.

Harry sighs as he rolls over in his little cot in the cupboard under the stairs, a tear rolling down his cheek and he wonders if perhaps he accidentally shook twice on that promise after all.

 


	2. New Day, New Struggle, New Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter

30th August 1985

“AUNTIE PHIA!” Harry calls excitedly as he runs to the girl coming in the front door, “Auntie Phia look look!” He drags her to the living room where his and Dudley’s new school uniforms are folded and waiting for them to wear in two days time.

Auntie Phia grins at the little boy.  Harry likes Auntie Phia, she’s nice to him.  She doesn’t come over much, but she’s always stopped by and played with he and Dudley for a bit.  He doesn’t know why, only knows that she’s a friend of Aunt Petunia and doesn’t despise him.

“Hello to you too, how’s my favourite guy doing?  Oooh, nice uniform.  This reminds me of the horrid uniforms my brother and I had to wear at our primary school,” Auntie Phia tells him.

Harry giggles, “Did you have fun?”

Auntie Phia smiles, nodding, “Loads.  Just…don’t set anything on fire while you’re there, okay?”

“Okay,” He agrees with a nod, “Oh!  I maded bacon all by myself this morning!”

“You did?” Auntie Phia asks, she turns to face at Aunt Petunia before looking back at Harry, “That’s wonderful.”  She doesn’t sound very happy.  Harry frowns, wondering if he’s done something wrong.  “Kid, why don’t you go play outside for a bit.”

Harry doesn’t mention that he has spent all day outside working in the garden and would really rather not, instead he just goes without complaint.  He’s never seen Phia angry before and has no interest in doing so now, especially if that risks her anger turning to him.  Angry people are unsafe people, better to keep everyone happy.

It’s not long later that Harry hears Uncle Vernon yelling, though he cannot make out the words.  But soon after the door slams and he knows Auntie Phia has left.

He’s not surprised when she never comes back.

 

 

1st September 1985

Two days after Auntie Phia left, Harry and Dudley are starting school.  Harry’s really glad that the two are in different classes.  Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon go to Dudley’s class with him and leave Harry at the reception.

“Erm, excuse me.  Could you please tell me where my classroom is?” Harry timidly asks the receptionist, concerned about speaking out of turn.

The person smiles kindly at him, “Second door on the right, dear,” They direct, pointing down a corridor.

“Thank you,” Harry replies before he hurries down the corridor.  The doors must be coloured the same way as the wall because Harry can’t find their blobby outline.  He feels along the wall, finding one door, and then the other.  He knocks.

“Ah, you would be my final student.  I don’t generally tolerate lateness, but seeing as it is the first day, you will get a pass.  Are your parents here?” A man in front of him says.

Harry really hates when people ask him that, “I don’t have parents, Sir.  My Aunt and Uncle bringed me but they went with my cousin.”

“I see.  The word is brought, not bringed,” He informs Harry, his voice gentler than it was before.  “Come in.  Please take your seat, there’s one at the back of the class.”

Harry walks into the room nervously, he heads towards the back of the class, glad that, as he gets closer, he can make out which seat is void of an occupant.  As he goes there, Harry accidentally bumps into several tables, “Oh, Sorry,” He says the first time.  The kids all laugh at him.  He mumbles his apology the next two bumps before he gets to his seat.

“Can you tell the class your name, please.  We’ve just done introductions,” The teacher announces.

“H-Harry,” Harry tells them.

“And what is your last name, Harry?”

“I-I don’t know, Sir.”  The class snickers at him again.

“Potter.  His last name is Potter,” A voice says from near the front, “And he’s my friend, so stop laughing at him.”  Harry looks up in surprise, recognising the voice from the blobs he can’t really separate at this distance.

“Perhaps you would like to sit beside him then, Miss Polka?” The teacher offers.  Harry can’t tell if she nods or not, but something seems to be moving amongst the blob.

“Thank you, Mr Haimes.”

“Rayanne, would you please switch seats with Lillie,” Mr Haimes requests.  The blob seated beside Harry gets up and moves, “Right then, welcome Mr Potter.  Would everyone please get out a book, we’re going to start with writing our names.”

Harry flushes, he doesn’t have a book.  He goes to raise his hand, preparing himself to be laughed at again, when a book is placed in front of him.  Harry turns to face Lillie in surprise.

“I had a spare.”

Harry smiles, tears filling his eyes before he blinks them away, “Thank you, Lillie.”

“’Course Hank, what are friends for?”  Harry grabs a pencil from his pocket and opens up his book, but he doesn’t know how to write his name. “The alphabet is on the top of the book if that helps,” Lillie tells him when she sees his confusion.

“The alphabet?” Harry asks, “I don’t know what that is.”  Lillie points to it, but all Harry sees is the blobby book.  He sighs and slumps in on himself.  He doesn’t know why other people see things that he can’t, how can they see anything there when everything is just blobby?  Harry feels tears in his eyes again and bites his lip to keep from crying.  The teacher will be mad at him and crying always exacerbates Uncle Vernon’s anger.  He feels someone grab his hand.

“It’s okay Hank, lots of the other kids can’t do it either.”

Harry isn’t sure he believes her.

 

The writing goes terribly, the teacher doesn’t seem annoyed when Harry fails to even point to the letters Mr Haimes says on this alphabet they keep mentioning.  All Harry knows of letters is the ones that come in the mail.

The writing didn’t go well, but then they go into naming colours, and that Harry can do.  He knows all the colours of the flowers in the garden and he gets all of them right.  Mr Haimes has a boy named Michael write the answer on the board for the one he answers, but Mr Haimes writes the ones for Harry.

When Aunt Petunia calls to him at the end of the day from the door, Mr Haimes tells him he needs a word with her.

Harry sits nervously in his chair, Lillie waits with him even though she can see her parents in the hallway.

“Come on,” Petunia’s shrill voice demands.  Harry gets up and quickly follows her out of the room. “Even my sister could write her own name, you know,” she mutters at him.

Harry hadn’t known Aunt Petunia has a sister, but he doesn’t think now is the time to question it.

 

29th September 1985

At dinner one night, Harry decides to risk it all.

“Aun-Aunt Petunia?”

“What is it?” She asks, ill-tempered.

Harry bites his lip before taking a breath and continuing, “Why don’t I have parents?”  He feels the tension in the room sky-rocket, though Dudley keeps eating, unperturbed.

“They’re dead.”

“What does that mean?” Harry questions with a frown.

“It means they don’t have to deal with you, don’t you have dishes to do, boy?” Uncle Vernon asks, Harry doesn’t really think it’s a question though.

Harry goes without further question but resolves to ask Lillie about it tomorrow.  She always knows words that he doesn’t.

 

 

31st July 1986

“HANK, HANK, HANK, HANK!” Lillie calls excitedly as she hurries over to him in the park, “GUESS WHAT TODAY IS!”

Harry looks at Lillie in confusion from his seat, “Fursday?”

Lillie sits beside him on the play equipment with a loud clatter, drawing attention to them in a way Harry knows she won’t notice but he instinctually shies away from. “It’s _Th_ ursday. Thu, _Thu_ rsday.  And no.  Well, yes but that’s not what I meanted,” Lillie replies.

“It’s _meant_ ,” Harry states with unnecessary emphasis.

Lillie narrows her eyes at him, “What I _meant_ ,” She begins pointedly, “Is that it’s your birthday!” Lillie brightens up at the end of her sentence, remembering what her point is.

“I have a birthday?” He asks in surprise.

“Everybody has a birthday, Hank.”

“Like everybody has parents?”

Lillie bites her thumb, then she nods and lowers her hand again, “Sorry.  Anyway, it’s on the birthday list at school. I gotcha somethin.”

“Got me som-”

Sensing where his confusion is coming from, she cuts him off, “It’s a birthday present like your cousin gets.  You can get them too.  Mum and Dad have something for you as well, but they said you have to open it when you’re at home and alone.  I told them bout your Auntie Phia and they tracked her down, this is from her too.  And she says happy birthday too.”

Harry nods, “I promise I will wait,” He says, feeling excited.  He’s never gotten a birthday present before, or any present really.  Though his Auntie Phia used to bring him chocolate.  He’s glad she’s still thinking of him, even if he doesn’t see her anymore.

Lillie thrusts a crudely taped package at him, the present from her.  He opens it eagerly, finding two horse figurines complete with riders.  His eyes widen and he smiles as he uses his fingers to feel all around it, “They have swords too,” She tells him, taking one of his hands and directing his fingers to the correct part of the blob.  He can see something sticking out but had no idea what it was until she explained.

Harry smiles at his friend, tears in his eyes.  “Thank you, Lillie.”

She smiles in return, hugging him, “What are friends for?”

 

As soon as he gets home, Harry hurries through his chores, shutting himself into his cupboard as soon as he can.  Only then does he dare to open the package Lillie had given him from her parents.

Inside is a rectangle, two blobs moving in the middle of it.  He can’t see it clearly, not really at all.  But he rests his fingers on top of the moving parts and he knows.  Somehow he just knows.  Those moving blobs, they’re his family.

Harry feels tears fall down his cheeks as he smiles.  He wonders if they’re his parents, stroking his fingers along the side of the frame.

If anything though, the picture shows him the living family he has in the Polkas.  He promises himself he’ll never take them for granted like Dudley does his parents.

 

 

18th October 1987

Somedays…somedays Harry just can’t understand.  He’s never done anything to them, why are the Dursleys so cruel to him?  Sometimes it really sinks in, he’s going to be here for the rest of his life.  He lays on his stomach in bed, unable to be on his back after the belt he’d gotten from his Uncle earlier.  If not for Lillie, Harry really wouldn’t think he can get through this.  But he can, and he will.  For her.  His one and only friend in this world.  He’ll keep going for her.

What other option is there?

 

 

10th January 1988

Harry walks into his classroom, going all the way around the tables as he has learnt to do, knowing from experience that attempting to walk down the aisles will lead to nothing but mocking laughter and bruises from where people trip him up.

Lillie isn’t here today, Harry worries.  Lillie’s never missed a day of school.  He’s especially worried because he knows she hasn’t been feeling well lately.

Without her around, the bullying is even worse than usual.  As always, Dudley leads the charge.

“What do you call a freak with no friends?” Dudley asks his friends as he pushes Harry into the ground.

“Potty!” One of his mates shouts back.

“If you’re going to be mean at least be clever about it,” Harry requests snarkily.  Dudley punches him in the face.  Harry never even had a chance to see the blob coming.

“Come on Dudley, let’s go,” Another of his blob friends tells him, they walk off moments before a teacher comes around the corner.

“You don’t help yourself when you talk back.  You know that, don’t you?”

Harry recognises the voice of the Principal and nods as he picks himself up off the ground, “I know Ma’am.”

The blob nods, “Come on then, let’s get you cleaned up.”  Harry sighs and follows after her, knowing there would be no punishment to Dudley.  They’d run off before Ms Fin had come around the corner and Harry has no proof.

Lillie doesn’t show up for a week.

Harry starts believing the other kids.

 

Harry is distracted while making dinner three days into that week.   Uncle Vernon tells him he’s not worthy of eating anything if he can’t handle a simple pork roast.

Harry believes that too.

 

17th January 1988

“Lillie?!” Harry asks as a blob sits in her chair besides him.

“Hey Hank.”

“Where have you been?” He asks her almost desperately.  He feels relieved tears in his eyes but fights them away.

Lillie doesn’t answer him, avoids the question entirely.

 

A few weeks later she disappears for a week again, and a few weeks after that it happens again.

It keeps happening.

 

 

12th December 1988

“How was school, Dudders?” Aunt Petunia asks when she picks the two boys up from school.

“Fun, Freak’s freaky friend was gone again.  Guess she gets sick of him too,” Dudley sneers.

“That’s not true!  She just gets sick a lot!” Harry defends immediately.

Dudley snorts, “No one gets sick once a month.  She’s a freak and even _she_ doesn’t want to be around you.”

Harry glares at Dudley, suddenly the windows in the car crack.  Aunt Petunia slams on the break, unable to see through the cracking glass.  Harry’s eyes widen, he knows he’s going to get in trouble for this, even though he didn’t even _do_ anything.

Only Aunt Petunia doesn’t turn around to yell at him.  In fact, she speaks rather calmly. “Your friend, she disappears once a month?”

“Erm…yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“How long is she gone?”

Harry looks to Dudley in confusion, he shrugs.  “A week, Aunt Petunia.”

“Does she seem sick around that time?” Aunt Petunia questions.

Harry pulls at his hair nervously, “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“And she’s the one who knew your last name?”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Aunt Petunia nods, looking back to the front of the car.  “Dudley, you are never to mock this girl for that again, do you understand me?” Dudley seems shocked, so does Harry.  Dudley looks to Harry who shrugs.  “Do you understand me, Dudders?”

“Y-Yes, Mummy.”

Petunia nods, “Good.”

 

 

14th December 1988

Petunia Dursley is not a nice woman, she can admit that.  She has made mistakes, _many_ mistakes.  Particularly when it comes to her nephew.  But if there is one thing she knows without doubt, it’s that he will be far better off away from the wizarding world, whether that’s what Del would have wanted or not.

That world killed near everyone Petunia has ever cared for and left those who survived shattered and broken copies of themselves.  So no, Petunia is not a nice woman, but she will do whatever it takes to keep her nephew from that same fate.

He’ll be better for it in the end.  He has to be.

Nodding to herself, Petunia takes a deep breath before she walks up to the house before her, knocking on the door and waiting a step back from it.

The door opens, the man on the other side seems shocked.

“Mrs Dursley, what an unexpected pleasure.”

“Mr Polka,” Petunia greets, face solemn.  “We need to talk about your daughter.”

 

Petunia drives home a mere ten minutes later.  She knows that the old group would have been horrified with her for what she’d just done.  Petunia is more than a little horrified herself.  But if Harry is to be kept from the wizarding world, a werewolf cannot be anywhere near him.

 _“At least let them write to each other,”_ Mr Polka had begged her.

_Petunia sighs and shakes her head, “Harry cannot even read.”_

_“Then get him glasses!  It’s the least you can do!”_

_“The_ least _I can do?  I am raising that boy!  I have done more than enough for the boy who got my sister killed!  I’ll have no more of this nonsense in my house, no more.  Not near me, and_ not _near_ him _.”_

 _Mr Polka sighs, rubbing at his face tiredly, “Lillie’s entire life just changed, her entire life was just_ ruined _.  Please.  Give her a little time, get him glasses, let them write.”_

_Petunia looks at the picture of the child in question on the mantle, Lillie.  She hadn’t known her name.  Petunia nods, “Until the end of the school year.  Then you leave, all of you, or the entire wizarding world finds out about your daughter.  And those letters, they are not addressed to him, they are addressed to me and they go through muggle mail channels, no owling.”_

_Mr Polka still seems shocked at her knowledge of the wizarding world given how mundane she has always seemed, but he nods.  “No owling, end of the school year, letters addressed to you.  I swear it.”_

_She sighs, looking down and then back up to him, suddenly seeming far more human than he’s ever thought, “It won’t mean much, I’m aware of that.  But I hope you know that I don’t want to do this.  And I_ am _sorry.  You see, I have nothing against Werewolves.  One of my oldest friends is one, so I know very well that they are no monsters.  Just frightened creatures.  There’s a book, one you should get if you want to save your daughter a lot of pain.  It’s called ‘The Boy Who Never Cried Wolf’ anonymous author, but it’s available at Flourish and Blotts.  Everything you need to know to keep her safe is in there.  I hope you manage it.”_

Petunia watches the sunset as she pulls into her driveway, sitting for a moment after turning the car off.

She’s not a nice woman, but a nice woman didn’t confront her friend’s abusive boyfriend.  A nice woman didn’t take her husband to task when he tried to ban her from Sirius’ wedding.  A nice woman didn’t shut down every single one of her muggle friends when they start with the homophobic comments that she won’t stand for.  And a nice woman will not be able to keep her nephew from the mess that got his family torn to absolute shreds in all the worst ways possibly imaginable.  If keeping him from that means this, then so be it.

Petunia gets out of her car and walks into her home, a smile on her face.

She won’t ever be a nice woman, but she’ll always be an Aunt because her nephew will be safe, not dead.  She thinks maybe that’s a worthy sacrifice.

 

 

27th December 1988

Harry’s face is plastered to the car window as he and Aunt Petunia drive home.  Everything is so…not-blobby.  Is this what everyone else has been seeing this whole time?  It’s unbelievable.

Harry sees his Aunt Petunia look in the rear-view mirror and beams at her. She allows a small smile in return that warms his heart.

There are rare moments like these sometimes, when it’s just the two of them.  They don’t last long, but he lives for them.  In those moments, he almost feels like a person instead of a freak.

“C-Can I go to Lillie’s house to show her my glasses?” Harry asks nervously. 

Petunia bites at her lip for a moment, then her eyes go steely again and Harry knows the answer before it’s spoken, “You’ll see her at school.  The lounge needs vacuuming.”

“Yes Aunt Petunia.”

 

Harry goes to bed that night and instantly pulls out his picture of who he thinks must be his parents.  Again he runs his thumb down the side of the frame as tears fill his eyes.  He can see their faces and they are happy.  His Mum is so beautiful.

Harry sees her eyes, eyes like his, eyes like his nightmares.  He gasps and drops the torch he was using to see.

He decides that’s enough seeing tonight and takes his glasses off, back to the familiar blobness that lets him hide from the truth behind his mother’s eyes.  Truth he’s not ready to see.

 

 

19th July 1989

Harry packs his things up at the end of the last day of school before summer.

“Wanna practice times tables at my place?” Lillie asks, “We can read too.”

Harry smiles happily at her.  Her parents have been teaching Harry to read since Christmas.  He’s not exactly picking it up quickly but he can read simple words if he sounds them out slowly.  He’s nearly learnt the whole alphabet!

“Sure, Aunt Petunia said I could go round if I want after school.”  It was an odd moment of compassion that Harry does not yet realise was actually pity.

 

“Dad!  We’re home!” Lillie calls out as she, Harry, and Andrea Polka walk into the house.  They find the living room filled with boxes.  Lillie and Harry look around in confusion. “Mum?” Lillie asks, looking to her mother who has a decidedly guilty look on her face.  Mr Polka walks into the room moments later, “Dad?”

“Why don’t you kids have a seat,” Mr Polka suggests.  Harry and Lillie sit on the couch, Harry grabs Lillie’s hand, nervous.  She holds his anxiously.

“We…weren’t sure what to say, really.  We didn’t want you to waste time wishing this weren’t happening, wanted you to enjoy the time you had left…” Andrea begins, tears filling her eyes before she blinks them away.  She must be strong for her kids.

“We’re moving,” Mr Polka tells them, “To India.”

“WHAT?!” Harry and Lillie both shout.

“B-But what about Hank?  And school?” Lillie asks.

Andrea kneels down before her daughter, taking one of her hands and one of Harry’s.  “Sometimes…sometimes things change in life.  And it’s not a matter of if they are good or bad, it’s a matter of if we deal with them in a positive or a negative light,” she begins, having no idea where she is going with this, “I know this is less than ideal, but you can write to each other.  It’s not the end of the world.  It’s an adventure.”

“One without Hank!” Lillie says loudly, “I’m not leaving him!”  Harry sits silently, overwhelmed and afraid.

“We don’t want to either, Lillie.  But sometimes we don’t get a choi-” Mr Polka begins.

“YOU’RE THE ONES WHO TELL US THERE’S ALWAYS A CHOICE!”

“Lilliana do _not_ shout at your father!” Andrea demands.  Lillie goes to yell again when Harry grabs her arm and pulls her back onto the couch she’d stood up from.

“It’s not _fair_!” Lillie says, tears falling down her face.

“Life isn’t always fair, sweetheart.  I know it’s…it’s not happy news.  But we _are_ going.  No matter how much you argue with us about it,” Andrea tells her.

Harry fiddles with his fingers for a moment before he looks up at the first family he’s ever really had.  At least that he can remember.  “When are you leaving?”

Mr and Mrs Polka exchange looks before Mr Polka sighs, “Tonight.”

Lillie storms out of the room, slamming the door to her bedroom closed behind her.

Harry hesitates for a moment before he goes after her and finds her throwing things in a bag.  Somehow, he doesn’t think she’s packing for the move.

“Lillie…” Harry trails off.

“What?  Going to tell me that everything is going to be fine?  That it will all work out in the end?” Lillie asks as she keeps throwing things, more on the bag than in it by now, tears streaming down her face.

Harry sighs, “No.  I was going to say that I’ll find you.  One day, when I can leave the Dursleys, I’ll find you.”  Lillie looks at him in surprise, he gives a wet chuckle, “I don’t want to stay here.  I’ll constantly be scared they’ll make me go back.  England…my parents died here, I still don’t know who they were.  India could be a fresh start, for both of us.  Isn’t there anything you want to leave behind too?”

Lillie bites her lip, rubbing awkwardly at her leg where she got bitten by a rabid dog, or so Harry believes.  “Not enough to leave you.”

“You won’t be leaving me.  You’re going to work out how things are in India, then we won’t be starting over from scratch when I make it there.  Once I’m there no one can ever make me come back.  I’ll save up and then I’ll move in with you lot and everything will be okay,” Harry explains, taking her hands.

“I don’t want to be without you, Hank,” Lillie tells him.

Harry sighs, guiding Lillie to her bed and sitting down beside him.  “Do you remember when I asked you what it meant to be dead?  We asked your parents and they explained about life and death.  Remember what else they said though?”

Lillie nods, looking at her hands, “They’re always with you.”

Harry nods, “I will always be with you.”

Lillie throws herself at Harry who hugs her tightly, both of them crying into each other’s shoulders.

 

Three hours later finds the Polkas and Harry standing outside the house.

“You won’t forget me, will you?” Harry awkwardly asks.

Lillie hugs him tight, “Never, Hank.  Never.”

“We’ve worked it out with your Aunt, you’ll be able to write to each other,” Andrea tells them.  Harry breaks away from Lillie and moves over to her parents.  They both kneel down and hug him.

“We’ll miss you, Harry,” Mr Polka tells him.

“I’ll miss you too,” Harry replies, squeezing them slightly.  He pulls back and looks nervously at his feet.  “Hey, um.  You know how you got that picture of my parents for me?”  Andrea nods.  “Do you know what their names were?”

Mr Polka smiles, “Lily and James Potter.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Lily?”  He and Lillie look at each other with wide eyes.

Then Lillie grins, “Toldja we were made to be best friends.”

 

 

September 1989

Harry is less than surprised when his first day of school is miserable.  His only friend is gone and everybody knows it.

Twelve days after she left, Harry’s first letter from Lillie arrives.  He takes it in to school with him and his teacher helps him read it.  From that he finds out that she’s starting school in two days and by the time his letter, that his teacher also helps him write, arrives she will have been attending for over a week.

It’s that realisation that has him fighting off tears.  Because they may be able to talk but ten days for a letter to go each way will mean anything talked about will probably be irrelevant again by the time it is read, let alone a reply is received.

It’s a rough couple of years for Harry, he knows it won’t get better.

 

23rd June 1991

_Green, bright, burn, pain, scream, HARRISON!_

Harry jolts awake, sitting up in bed and breathing hard.  He’s never heard anything but unintelligible screaming in his nightmares before.  Whose voice was it?  And the name, Harrison, is that his?  Is it like Lillie’s Uncle Hank, also called Harry, and whose name is actually Henry?  Could the voice have been one of his parents?

Harry sighs and shakes his head.  He’ll write to Lillie and get her opinion, but regardless it won’t make a difference.  No dream will bring his parents back, and Harrison sounds like a dreadful name anyway.  Though he supposes any name only heard when screamed in terror would sound harsh and grating.

“Up!  Get Up!  Now!” Harry’s Aunt’s voice snaps him out of his reverie.  She raps on the door again, “Up!” She screeches.

Harry sighs as he rubs his eyes, contemplating his name further.  Harrison Potter.  For some reason, Harry suddenly remembers another dream he’s had a few times.  One with a flying motorcycle in it.  Perhaps this name is as fantastical as that.  After all, if his dreams can feature such nonsense as a flying motorcycle, what are the chances that anything else in them is real?

“Are you up yet?” Aunt Petunia asks, snapping Harry out of his thoughts for a second time.

“Nearly,” Harry replies.

“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon.  And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudder’s birthday.”  Harry groans. “What did you say?” Aunt Petunia snaps.

“Nothing, Nothing…” Harry says sleepily as he searches for socks.

Harry doesn’t think his nightmare is a sign that this birthday will be anymore tolerable than all of his cousin’s previous ones.

 

The news that Mrs Figg broke her leg was certainly unexpected.  Harry thinks that perhaps he ought to feel bad about it, but honestly if he’d known it would lead to this, Harry might’ve done it himself a long time ago.  Well, okay, maybe not.  He’d have been in trouble then and this still wouldn’t be happening.  But he could’ve staged an accident of some kind.  Harry knows that would be a mean thing to do, but people hurt him all the time, maybe it’s not so bad if someone else is hurt for once and Harry gets a break.

He’s all but holding his breath as they pull into the zoo parking lot, he’s never been here before and he can’t wait.

 

 Naturally, after the best day he can remember having since the day he first met Lillie, which made him feel guilty about having such a good time without her, something went terribly wrong.

The snake Harry had been talking to somehow escaped after Dudley shoved Harry into the ground.  The moment Dudley’s friend Piers mentioned Harry talking to it, Harry knew he’d be in trouble.  For all that the Dursleys constantly enforce the idea that nothing interesting is capable of happening, they seem to assume the extraordinary does indeed exist, and is somehow Harry’s fault entirely too.  Harry can’t understand how a man who doesn’t believe in magic can possibly believe that Harry somehow made the glass of the enclosure vanish, but for some reason, despite his annoyance, Harry can’t help but wonder if maybe it is his fault.  They always blame him for things, maybe it really is because of him?  Maybe bad stuff just happens around him.  A snake escaped and could have hurt people, Dudley’s ugly old jumper shrunk when Aunt Petunia tried to put it on him, his hair had grown back overnight after his Aunt had shaved it and he’d spent the next week in his cupboard.  So yes, extraordinary things do happen around him.  Extraordinarily bad things.

Harry sighs as he lays in his bed.  He touches the scar on his face, a rather extraordinary shape.  Harry has always assumed that the green light of his nightmares and the burning he feels on his forehead is from the crash that gave him this scar.  But where did the green light come from?  Did something extraordinary happen then too?  Was that because of Harry?  Are his parents only dead because he was in the car and something weird happened?

He resolutely shuts his eyes.  He won’t sneak out for food tonight.  The Dursleys are right.

He doesn’t deserve it.

 

 

24th July 1991

The smell of Aunt Petunia dyeing Harry’s new school uniform was horrid.  So, while Harry may have argued back on getting the letters slightly for the sake of it, he is actually rather glad to leave the kitchen when the argument is lost.

To find an envelope addressed to himself was indeed a surprise.  The only person who ever writes to him is Lillie but for one, she always sends it to Aunt Petunia, Harry suspects that Uncle Vernon doesn’t know this is happening.  And for two, another letter isn’t due to arrive for four days unless she, for some reason, sent another without waiting for his reply.

“That’s mine!” Harry cries when Uncle Vernon snatches it out of his hand.

“Who’d be writing to you?” Uncle Vernon sneers.  Harry shares a secret look with a pale-faced Aunt Petunia, wondering if they’re both about to be found out.  Uncle Vernon’s face goes green and then grey, Harry thinks that for sure Uncle Vernon knows now and he’ll never be able to speak to Lillie again.

“P-P-Petunia?” Uncle Vernon asks.  Aunt Petunia swallows harshly as she walks over and takes a look at the letter.  She pales so quickly Harry thinks she might faint.

Harry and Dudley are kicked out of the room shortly after, but they listen in at the door.

“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia begins in a quivering voice, “The address-”

“They must be watching us – spying – maybe following us.”

“No, Vernon.  I-It’s my fault,” She says.  The silence following the statement leads Harry to believe Uncle Vernon is probably gaping at his wife.  “That girl, the one that hung around Harry.  She…” Aunt Petunia sighs.  Harry feels tears fill his eyes, his Aunt is ratting them out and he’ll never speak to Lillie again.

“She what, Petunia?” Uncle Vernon demands.

“She was like Phia’s brother.  Sick, just like him.  That’s why they moved away.  I told them to.  But they know where we are, the parents, they must have said something.”

“Aunt Phia has a brother?” Dudley asks quietly, looking at Harry who nods.

“Yeah, I think she mentioned him once.  The day she…” Harry trails off.  Dudley blames Harry for Auntie Phia leaving.

Harry blames himself too.

 

He’s not surprised when Aunt Petunia bans anymore letters to or from Lillie.  Much as he will miss that, Harry thinks it might be for the best.  If Uncle Vernon were to find out now, as they drive across England in an attempt to escape the letters, well it probably would not end in a positive fashion.  Aunt Petunia seems to grow even more irritable as they enter a town called Cokeworth.  Harry and Dudley exchange confused looks at her muttering, but neither have heard anything about it before.

 

It’s just as the clock strikes twelve on Harry’s birthday that a great boom is heard against the door to the creepy and run-down shack Uncle Vernon had found.

As the giant behemoth of a person enters the room, Harry realises that everything is about to change.

Again.

 


	3. Good bye, Good night, Good Riddance

**_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter_ **

 

1st September 1991

Harry sits on the Hogwarts Express, still half unable to believe any of this is even real.  His heart is still pounding in his chest, silently thanking every deity he can think of for that red-headed woman who had helped him find the platform.  Harry looks out his window, thinking of the people he wishes could have been with him to say goodbye.  His Auntie Phia, Lillie, Mr and Mrs Polka,…his parents.  Harry takes a steadying breath.  All of them had left him alone, their fault or not he’s alone.  He has to move on.

When Ron comes into the room and they really get talking, Harry feels lighter than he has in a long time.  There’s no more unanswered questions.  He knows who he is, the truth of his past, he has glasses and can see, and now he’s going into the world he belongs in.  Harry thinks he can probably do anything.  And to follow that feeling, he buys some of everything on the snack trolley that comes past.  He’s quite glad to share it with Ron, but Harry stares at the food, unable to eat it.  He is never allowed this much food, often he’s not allowed food at all.  Can he eat this?  Won’t he be punished?  He hasn’t earnt it, doesn’t deserve it, can’t just eat it.  It’s not his, it can’t be, Harry doesn’t want to ruin everything before it’s begun.

He blinks away tears, willing himself not to cry. _I will not freak out in front of Ron, then he’ll never be my friend.  I’m supposed to fit in here, not make myself the freak of the freaks._ He sighs to himself quietly, quite thankful for the boy who interrupts his derailing thoughts to enquire about a missing toad.  He’s a tad confused when the boy returns moments later, this time with a girl that Harry feels is oddly…familiar.

“…Neville’s lost one,” The girl says, standing tall and seeming more confident than Harry has ever seen anyone.  He snaps back into focus on the conversation at the name.  Somehow that seems familiar as well.  But as the focus turns to Ron’s wand, both feelings of familiarity are quickly dismissed.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” Ron waves his wand but nothing happens, much to Harry’s disappointment.  He’d wanted to see more magic.

“Are you sure that’s a _real_ spell?” The girl asks, “Well, it’s not very good, is it?  I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me.”  Harry’s fairly certain she shouldn’t have done that, but what would he know, he was raised by Muggles who know nothing about magic.  “Nobody in my family’s magic at all.” Harry internally retracts everything he just thought.  She really shouldn’t have done it, but what would she know, she was raised by muggles too. “-it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard -- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -- I'm Hermione…Granger.”  She clears her throat, smiling slightly, “Hermione Granger.   Who are you?”

Hermione said all of this so fast that it takes Harry a moment to sort through it all.  Then Harry panics, should he have memorised all the course books?  He’s better at reading now but he could barely read a page of those books on his own.  Not quickly, anyway.  And he’s so focused on trying to read the words he forgets to remember them and then has to read the sentence over again.  He sees the bewildered look on Ron’s face and breathes a small sigh of relief that his friend hadn’t memorised it either.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron says.

“Harry Potter,” Harry tells her.  _Certainly a step up from the last time I started a school and didn’t know my own last name,_ he thinks to himself.

“Are you really?” Hermione asks.

Harry internally sighs, _At least no one else had known it then either besides Lillie.  Much better than this rubbish where everyone knows more about me than I do._

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” Ron states after she leaves.  Harry’s beginning to wonder if maybe he would’ve been better off back in Surrey after all.  At least back there he only had to live with one kid that bullies him, as opposed to the entire school full of children that will bully him when they find out he can’t read properly.

 

Ron is just taking Harry through the finer points of Quidditch when the compartment door slides open yet again, but it isn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys enter, and Harry recognises the middle one at once; the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop.  He seems far more interested in Harry now than he did when they last met.  Harry is, of course, unaware that the boy had spent the days since their last meeting pondering what it is that made Harry so…odd.

"Is it true?" The boy asks, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Harry replies distractedly, far more focused on the other boys. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they look like mean and nasty bodyguards that set Harry on edge.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," The pale boy off-handedly tells him, noticing where Harry is looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron tries to hide a snigger with a cough, but when Draco Malfoy looks at him, Harry’s pretty sure it didn’t work.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He turns back to Harry, "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."  The boy holds out his hand to shake Harry's.

 Harry doesn’t even look at it before replying coolly, "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”

Malfoy flushes ever so slightly, clearly unused to being refused.  "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he says harshly, "You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stand up.  "Say that again," Ron demands, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneers.

"Unless you get out now," Harry replies, more bravely than he feels.  Lillie had always been the brave one.  Crabbe and Goyle are a lot bigger than he and Ron.  Harry’s used to having people bigger than him hurting him, but he’s not used to fighting back.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reaches towards the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron.  Ron leaps forward, but before he's so much as touched Goyle, Goyle lets out a horrible yell.

Scabbers is hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle – Crabbe and Malfoy back away as Goyle swings Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappear at once, Malfoy muttering something about never mentioning this to someone named Jamie.  Harry thinks that they either thought there were more rats, or they heard footsteps, because at that moment Hermione Granger comes in.

"What has been going on?" she asks, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

“I think he's been knocked out," Ron says to Harry, then He looks closer at Scabbers. "No, I don't believe it…he's gone back to sleep-"

Harry looks at Scabbers who does indeed appear asleep, at least until he opens his eyes and looks at Harry.  For a moment, Harry could swear that Scabbers winks at him, but when Harry blinks and looks again, the rat is asleep, and Harry thinks he must’ve imagined the entire thing.

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on,” Hermione tells them after Harry explains the first time he met Malfoy, “I’ve just been up the front to ask the conductor and he says we’re nearly there.”

 

Harry’s relieved to be led to the school by Hagrid, even if they don’t get a chance to speak.

McGonagall seems…terrifying.   The prospect of the sorting seems even more terrifying.  He hears Hermione muttering spells under her breath, and Malfoy say something about Uncle Sev and a hat?  Harry shakes his head, blocking it all out and staring at the ground, waiting for McGonagall to return and lead him to his doom.

Suddenly people start screaming.

Harry turns quickly and sees about twenty ghosts float into the room.  His eyes widen with disbelief.

Harry doesn’t believe in ghosts…or at least…he never used to.  He smiles fondly as he recalls the afternoons with the Polkas when they’d all sit around the living room table with hot chocolate and Lillie’s parents would tell them the most fantastical stories of magic, ghosts, and all sorts.  If only they could know it’s true. _If only they were still around at all_ , Harry can’t help but morbidly think.

Professor McGonagall returns a few minutes later.  “Move along now,” She tells the ghosts sharply, “The sorting ceremony’s about to begin.”

 

Harry sits at the Gryffindor table after the sorting wondering if he should even be here.  What would happen if the teachers or his peers discovered that he’s only in Gryffindor because he refused Slytherin.  The hat thought he should be in Slytherin, if the hat is what decides then doesn’t that make him a Slytherin?  Regardless of the robes he’ll soon wear?

All thoughts of houses and belonging are pushed from his mind as the food arrives.  He stares helplessly at it, putting some potatoes on his plate and picking at them.  When he’s finally worked up the courage to nibble at one he finds they are the most delicious things he’s ever come across and immediately feels like crying.  Here is a feast of the most delicious food in existence, all for Harry to eat, and here he is, not eating it.

He silently struggles through the feast, and then into desert, the sight of which has him holding back a sob.  He manages to eat a treacle tart before feeling like he’s going to throw up.  After that he listens to the conversations happening around him before looking around.  At the teachers’ table he sees Hagrid, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Quirrell.  As Harry looks at Quirrell, he takes in the teacher beside him, greasy-haired and hook-nosed.  The man turns his head and looks at Harry.  Instantly, Harry feels burning pain shoot through his scar, the likes of which he’s only ever felt in dreams. 

“Ouch!” Harry slaps a hand to his forehead.

For a moment, all Harry can see is green, all he can hear is the terrified call of “Harrison!” in echoing voices.

“Harry?” Harry blinks and sees Ron’s brother Percy looking at him in concern, “What is it?”

Harry swallows harshly, “N-Nothing.”  The pain disappeared as quickly as it had come, but now that it’s gone, Harry can’t shake the impression that the teacher was less than happy to see him here.  “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” He asks Percy.

“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?” Percy asks, he seems pleased with that as he looks up at the Professor.  His pleased look falls, “No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape.  He teaches potions, but he doesn’t want to – everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job.  Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”

Harry watches Snape for a few moments, but he doesn’t look back over.

“Not eating, Harry?” Percy asks, sounding far more delicate than Harry has heard him so far.  Harry looks over, mildly alarmed, and fights back the nausea rising.  Percy smiles gently, an odd look in his eye, “Don’t worry.  I don’t eat much either.”

Harry’s fairly certain there’s more to that statement than meets the eye.  He simply nods, glad when the deserts disappear too.

“Ahem,” Dumbledore says, standing.  The hall falls silent as everyone pays attention to the Headmaster.  “Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered.  I have a few start of term notices to give you.  First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.”  Harry sees McGonagall and Snape exchange a look at that, both looking amused for some reason.  “And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well,” Dumbledore continues, eyes twinkling as he looks to the Weasley twins and then over to the Slytherin table.  Harry sees the twins lock mischievous eyes with a girl on that table, he assumes she’s who Dumbledore was looking at.  If everything Harry has heard about Slytherin is true, he has to wonder why the twins are friends with the curly black-haired girl.  She locks eyes with Harry who stares into her grey orbs for a moment before she glares and looks away.

Harry doesn’t think she likes him much.

“I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes.  Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.  And finally, I must tell you,” Dumbledore says, looking far more serious than he had earlier, “the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry blinks, _what the hell kind of school_ is _this?_

 

31st July 1992

Harry’s first year at Hogwarts is…well, the literal definition of insanity is all he can think.  He nearly died, he met the man who killed his parents, he learnt to do magic, his friends started referring to him as a Slytherin any time those tendencies of his personality came out after he told them about his sorting, and then there was Snape.  But all the same it has been the greatest time of his life.

Which is probably why he finds himself at a complete loss on what to do as he walks up to his new room at the Dursleys’.  Uncle Vernon’s bloody dinner party is going on beneath his feet and Harry can’t work out if he’s lucky that he doesn’t have to attend or unlucky that he’s going to once more be stuck in his room.

Well, at least it isn’t a cupboard this time.

Harry looks wistfully out of the hallway window, wondering what Ron and Hermione are doing right now and feeling lonelier than he ever has before.

As he often does while lonely, Harry walks into his room and grabs the letters he has kept from Lillie.  He hasn’t spoken to her in one year today and hasn’t seen her in just over four years.  It’s unbelievable to him, some days it seems like so long and other times he can’t believe it’s been so long since he saw his only friend.

Of course, she isn’t his only friend anymore, but some part of him will always think of her that way.  Then again, if the lack of letters from Ron and Hermione are anything to go by, perhaps she is his only friend after all.  And that’s even assuming she isn’t mad at him for not writing anymore now that Aunt Petunia won’t let him.  It’s not his fault of course, but he can’t exactly explain the situation to Lillie.

“Hi Lillie, just wanted to say I’m sorry.  See, I’m a wizard and for some reason Aunt Petunia went mental believing your parents gave Hogwarts my address even though you’re a muggle and now I can’t talk to you anymore,” Harry mutters out loud, “Yes, I’m sure that would go down swimmingly.”  He turns around with the intention of sitting on his bed and reading through some of his letters, only there’s already someone sitting there.

Large, bulging, green eyes look at Harry who recognises them instantly as the eyes he saw in the bushes earlier today.

After a few moments of staring at each other, the creature got off Harry’s bed and bowed to him.

“Er – hello,” Harry greets.

“Harry Potter!” The creature replies in a high-pitched voice.  If Harry hadn’t been so worried about the Dursleys hearing it, he would have rolled his eyes at the consistent way everyone in the Wizarding World will greet him for the first time by all but shrieking his name.  “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir … Such an honour it is…”

Harry sighs slightly, this is quite a normal reaction as well, much to Harry’s discomfort.  “Th-thank you,” Harry says.  “Who are you?” He asks, thinking it a kinder question than ‘what are you’.

“Dobby, sir.  Just Dobby.  Dobby the house-elf,” the creature, Dobby, replies.

“Oh – really?” Harry hasn’t a clue what a house-elf is, but based on the pillowcase this ‘Dobby’ is wearing and the bow he gave earlier, he’s pretty sure it’s synonymous to a slave.  Of course, Harry supposes that it _could_ be a fashion statement, and people _do_ tend to bow at him a lot which never fails to make him extremely uncomfortable, so perhaps he’s way off the mark.  Harry doesn’t think so though, and given the way he was raised it’s of no surprise that Harry instantly disapproves.  “Er – I don’t want to be rude or anything, but – this isn’t a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom.” The elf hangs his head down and Harry instantly feels bad.  He feels a sort of kinship with the creature, no one else he knows could possibly understand what being with the Dursleys is like, and Harry can’t bare the thought of upsetting another in a similar position.  Because if they are anything alike, then Harry reckons he has enough to be upset about without Harry adding to it or making him feel like he’s another person that doesn’t want Dobby around.  “Not that I’m not pleased to meet you,” He quickly says, “but, er, is there any particular reason you’re here?”

As Dobby goes on to, eventually, explain – after much noise, getting him in trouble with the Dursleys, and punishing himself multiple times – his worries about Harry going back to Hogwarts, Harry has a rather sudden realisation.  “Hang on,” He says with a frown, “how do _you_ know my friends haven’t been writing to me?”  It all goes to hell after that and by the time things settle again, with Harry looking through the bars on his bedroom window, he finds that he doesn’t feel quite so sorry for Dobby anymore.

 

Harry loves the Burrow.  He decides this after a single glance when he, Ron, Fred, and George arrive from the daring rescue.

Mrs Weasley may be frightening when she’s angry, but she’s as warm and caring as he remembers from their brief meeting last September and he makes sure to thank her for his jumper from last Christmas.

It’s lunch before Harry has an issue.

See the breakfast Mrs Weasley had made was hard enough.  She loaded up his plate so much he nearly cried just looking at it.  He only ate a single sausage and he could see the concern in the woman’s eyes but, much as he tried out of guilt at leaving so much lovely food on his plate, he could eat no more.

So at lunch, when there is yet more food, Harry feels butterflies in his stomach from nervousness as he takes his seat.  He’d offered to help but Mrs Weasley would hear none of it.

“Harry?”

Harry looks over and sees Percy Weasley.  “Percy!  Hi,” He greets with a smile.

“When did you get here?” Percy asks, taking a seat across from him at the table.

“Earlier this morning, it’s a long story,” Harry tells him before leaning in slightly, “I wouldn’t bring it up around your Mum if I were you,” he warns.  The twins snicker when they hear this.

Percy seems amused, “Well, I had no idea or I’d have come out and said hello.”

“Oh, it’s all right.  Ron says you’ve been really busy lately, sending letters or something.”  Harry doesn’t think the blush dusting Percy’s cheeks is his imagination.

He clears his throat, “Erm, yes.  Anyway, how have you been?”

Harry freezes minorly, “Everything seems rather dull in comparison to Hogwarts,” He replies honestly, not wanting to worry Percy.  Percy’s done a lot over the last year to look after Harry.  He’s the only one to notice Harry’s issues with food and has since taken Harry under his wing.  He’d been rather disappointed in Harry when he broke the rules last year, and worried sick when he nearly died, but very proud of the courage Harry had shown.  Yes, it’s true that last year had been a bit of a rollercoaster, but Harry found himself grateful for the effort Percy has put into watching over him, keeping an eye on his grades and if he’s keeping up with his homework.  Percy’s a great prefect to the whole house, but he keeps a particularly close eye on Harry.

Not hearing from him or being able to write to him during summer break has been as hard as not speaking to his friends, and without his gentle encouragement, Harry finds his issues with food have worsened again.  Especially given he’s been back with the Dursleys.

Percy nods, “and I suppose that’s why you were given an official warning about the use of underage magic?” He asks mildly.

Harry gulps slightly, “No-ot exactly.  That wasn’t actually me,” Harry tells him, Percy raises an eyebrow.  “No, really, I promise.  There was this house-elf, it’s a long story, but I would never have risked my place in Hogwarts, not for _anything_.”

“No,” Percy relents, “I suppose you wouldn’t.”  Harry smiles in relief when Percy smiles indulgently at him.

“Don’t see how you can call being starved out and barred into your room dull, anyway,” Ron comments.

“ _WHAT_?!” Percy screeches.  Ron, George, and Fred look to their usually quiet and mild-mannered brother in shock.

Harry winces, “I-It wasn’t that bad.  Besides, I’m here now, so it’s fine.”

Percy’s jaw remains tight, unconvinced.  He takes a deep breath, “Harry,” he begins calmly, “Do you need to see a healer?” He asks carefully.  Mr Weasley, who had been keeping a surprised eye on the conversation from the head of the table, unused to Percy being so conversational, frowns.  He knows what Percy is hinting at here and internally kicks himself for not considering it.  He wonders if Percy is merely covering all bases or if he knows more than they do about what is going on in the Dursley residence.

“No, I’m fine, Percy,” Harry replies.

“Har–” Percy begins pressing but Harry cuts him off.

“I promise, I’m fine.”

“Here we go,” Mrs Weasley announces as she brings food in and puts a heaping on Harry’s plate before leaving it in the centre of the table for the others to help themselves to.

Harry looks at the food on his plate anxiously.  Percy catches the look and gives a small comforting smile, then an oddly mischievous look crosses his face.  Harry rather suddenly sees the family resemblance between he and the twins.

“Oh Merlin, look at that!” Percy suddenly exclaims, pointing behind everyone.  Harry doesn’t look away, watching as Percy quickly switches his far less filled plate with Harry’s.

“What?  What is it?” Mrs Weasley asks.

Percy looks at her, “I saw a chicken.”

“…a chicken?” Fred asks.  Harry tries to cover his snicker in his mouthful of food.

“Yes.”

“Blimey, Harry,” Ron exclaims, looking at his plate, “You must’ve been hungry.”

Harry shrugs with a smile, “Good company, I guess.”

 

Life is at an all time high for Harry, even better than being at Hogwarts.  He’s excited to see Hermione again and go back to Diagon Alley.  Basically, everything is amazing.  That’s why it’s of no surprise to Harry that something goes wrong and he ends up needing to be rescued by Hagrid from Knockturn Alley.

Despite this, and Gilderoy Lockhart, it’s a rather good outing.  He meets the Grangers, whom Hermione very proudly introduces.  They smile lovingly and ruffle their daughters already fuzzy hair affectionately as she does this, much to her adoration.  Harry feels a pang in his chest, for the first time in a long time he wishes his parents were here.  He’s glad Hermione doesn’t seem to be one of the people he sees taking their parents for granted.  That’s always hard for him to watch.  Lillie had had a tendency to do that.

All in all, Harry has a wonderful month at the Burrow, he knows he’ll miss it, but he’s still glad to be returning to school.

After last year, it ought to be a breeze.

 

 

As Harry sits, hidden in the staff room beside Ron who had collapsed to the ground after hearing the news about his younger sister, he reflects on his musings from just before the school year had begun.

 _Not a breeze,_ he thinks to himself.  The two sit in silent shock for a time, wondering for the safety of the littlest Weasley.  Hermione petrified had been bad enough, but at least they know she’s _alive_.  But Ginny…

While the teachers leave one by one, Ron turns to his best friend.  “She’s my baby sister,” He says.

Harry’s brow scrunches, eyes glistening as he puts an arm around Ron’s shoulders and nods, “I know.”

Ron turns his head into Harry’s shoulders, Harry pretends not to feel his tears.

 

 

Ginny says she doesn’t remember much of what happened, she and Harry lie to the Headmaster and everyone else and say that she was just kidnapped by the heir.  Neither mention what the diary made her do and Harry wonders if maybe she really doesn’t know. 

He does find, though, that when he is awakened by a nightmare of dying on the wet floor of the chamber, Ginny’s life being drained before his slowly closing eyes, she is awake in the common room and staring at the fire despite the warming weather.  On those nights before Hogwarts closes for the year, Harry will simply sit beside her and put an arm around her shoulders when she leans into him.

Neither speak of it, but something has shifted between them.  Somewhere in the Chamber, Harry knows he’s found someone he can count on to have his back for life.

 


	4. How To Feel, How To Breathe, How To Love

**_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter_ **

 

1st September 1993

“Are you all right, Harry?” This Professor Lupin asks.

Harry flushes slightly, “Fine,” He replies, wondering why everyone always seems to think he’s delicate right up until they need saving and suddenly everyone expects him to be strong.  Harry takes a quiet but deep breath and finishes off his chocolate.

“Dad!”  Harry looks over to the voice just as everyone else does, and finds the Slytherin girl that the twins hang out with.

“Are you all right?” Professor Lupin asks her, sitting her down beside him.  The twins squeeze in as well.  Harry looks between the girl and Professor in shock, it had never occurred to him that students here might be taught by their parents.

“She passed out-”

“-but she seems okay now,” The twins tell their friend’s Father, Professor Lupin looks at his daughter in concern.

“I ate some chocolate and gave some to Knucklehead and Chucklehead over here, don’t worry,” She promises.  Her Father sighs, nodding. 

Professor Lupin looks over to Ginny who Harry notices is looking at the Professor in confusion before a light fills her eyes and she smiles.  “I know you, you’re the friend of my parents I met at the train station when Ron started Hogwarts.” Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville all look to their new Professor in surprise. 

Professor Lupin smiles and nods at her, “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Weasley.”

“You know, your husband is _still_ giving Percy nightmares,” Ginny tells him, much to everyone’s greater confusion.

Lupin sighs, “I meant to talk to him, but then he started talking about three-headed dogs and the like and I found myself worrying about other things,” He explains.  Ginny chuckles, though she still seems shaken.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione are looking at each other and wondering how the hell he could possibly know any of that? _Husband must be somebody within the school but then, who could be giving Percy nightmares?_ Harry wonders, sure that if someone were that frightening, Percy would have warned him to stay away.  Even three years in and Percy is still quite protective of Harry.

“I think Percy’s just a wimp, I rather like his class.  So do Fred and George, but honestly I think they just like how much it annoys him they’re friends with his daughter,” Ginny continues, sending an amused look to the three in question.  The twins and the Lupin girl smirk.   “Oh, you must be her father too?” Professor Lupin nods, the girl leaning into her Father’s side.  Harry thinks this through, trying to work out who on staff has a daughter to then put together who this mysterious husband is that would have told Professor Lupin about what happened two years ago.  On top of that, Harry’s rather reeling in shock at how open this man is being about having a _husband_.  Aunt Petunia may refuse to allow Dudley, Vernon, or her friends to speak against homosexuals, but that does not mean that Vernon was an accepting man or that he didn’t find other ways of shoving his bigotry onto everyone.  As a result, Harry can’t help but feel uncomfortable with people like that.  He doesn’t _care_ about it, perse.  It’s more of an associated fear.  The topic causes Harry anxiety because of the usual result in Uncle Vernon’s anger.  “Hang on, did you say three-headed dog?” Ginny asks, snapping Harry out of his musings.

“Yes, apparently there was a Cerberus in the school, I never did find out exactly why, only that it bit my husband’s leg.”

Harry barely hears Ginny’s, “Ouch.”

“Your husband is Severus _Snape_?” He asks, incredulity clear in his voice.  The shock and horror is shared amongst Neville, Ron, and Hermione as well, though the latter at least tries to shut her jaw.  Lupin nods calmly, seeming to have expected this reaction which boggles Harry’s mind because it implies that he _knows_ what his husband is like and yet…then again, Uncle Vernon managed to find a wife so, there really must be someone for _everyone_ out there.

“Why?” Ron asks.  Hermione stomps on his foot aggressively. “Ow!” Ron glares at Hermione who gives him a very pointed look in return.  Harry rolls his eyes at it all before looking back at this man who, while having seemed rather all right despite his… _preferences_ , has unfortunately just lost quite a bit of standing in Harry’s eyes.  No half way decent person could possibly be married to that slimy git of a man, _let alone_ raise a child with him.

“That’s Ron, by the way.  I’m assuming you’ve met before?  Mum said she was still pregnant with me, so he’d have been born, right?” Ginny asks, pretending not to notice the disapproval in the room.

Lupin nods, “Yes, I think I may have met him when he was a baby.  In any case, it’s nice to meet you Ron, I’m Remus Lupin,” Professor Lupin introduces, holding a hand out to him.

Ron shakes the offered hand warily, disapproval and mild disgust still marring his face.  “How can you have married Snape but been friends with my parents?”  He asks after retracting his hand.

Hermione huffs and rolls her eyes, “Honestly Ron, you’re being rude!”  She then turns to Lupin, holding out a hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Professor Lupin, I’m Hermione Granger.”  A look of pride comes over Hermione’s face as it always does when introducing herself.

An odd look passes over the man’s face before he smiles warmly.  “A pleasure to meet you as well Miss Granger, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Hermione winces, looking concerned.  Harry thinks it’s probably because Snape must have been the one talking to Lupin about her and she’s now concerned about what he’s said.  It’s a feeling the others in the cabin share. “Sev tells me you’re one of the brightest students in your year.”  Everyone in the cabin looks at the new Professor in shock. 

Harry looks to Neville who looks at him and mouths with a confused look on his face, ‘Sev’.  Harry looks disturbed, agreeing that hearing any kind of nickname or pet-name for Snape had, a mere moment ago, seemed about as likely as his parents being resurrected on Christmas day as a miracle performed by Voldemort dressed as Father Christmas.

Hermione brings him back on topic. “He-He does?”  She asks disbelievingly, Lupin nods.  Hermione bites her lip, “I sort of…was under the impression Professor Snape hated me.”

Once more to their surprise, Lupin chuckles, “Yes, I find myself under that impression sometimes.  He’s not really the most emotive person, and has little patience, but he’s always had a profound respect for those who enjoy the simple act of learning.”  Hermione blushes slightly, looking quite pleased with herself.  Harry and Ron share a frown, unsure what to make of this nice-seeming fellow who, for some unfathomable reason, married the devil.  Lupin winces slightly, “Maybe don’t tell him I said any of that though.” Hermione nods, instantly agreeing.

“And you’re their kid?” Ginny asks the Slytherin who nods.

“Jamie Lupin,” She introduces.  Harry’s eyes snap to her briefly, thinking of his Father and also remembering the moment he found out his mother’s name.  ‘ _I told you we were made to be friends,’_ Lillie had told him.  Could this be another destined meeting?  Would this Jamie become an important part of his life as well?

Harry looks away, shaking such fanciful thoughts from his head before a far worse thought appears and he looks back to Professor Lupin.  “This may be a weird question but, is there any chance Hermione is the _only_ one Snape’s mentioned?”

“Professor Snape,” Lupin corrects. Harry nods though he pretty much ignores it. “And no, no chance at all.”  Harry grimaces.

“Well, this year ought to be interesting,” Hermione concludes. Ginny chuckles, nodding though looking to Harry with nervousness on her face.  He sends a reassuring smile at her, his thoughts verbalised by Neville moments later.

“Can’t be worse than last year, erm, no offence Professor.”

Lupin seems to hold back a derisive snort. “None taken.  Though really, if I have to put in any effort to be better than _Gilderoy_ I’ll be rather disappointed in myself.”  The group laughs at that, feeling far better about this new Professor than they had earlier, and far more comfortable after the Dementor thanks to him.

“Do you know him, Sir?” Neville asks.

“We went to school together, he and I…didn’t exactly get along,” Lupin reveals with a smirk on his face.

“Quite the understatement from the story Aunt Drom tells,” Jamie says to the amusement of the other students.

Lupin rolls his eyes, “Could tell you a few stories about Andromeda too,” he mutters.  Harry’s got to admit, his opinion of the man has jumped up again and this is really becoming a rollercoaster of a teacher/Student relationship despite not even having arrived at the school yet.  “In any case, we weren’t exactly friends.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.  I can’t really imagine anyone getting on with him,” Harry tells him.

After a brief but… _enlightening_ conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart, the students freely speak about their summers despite the presence of a teacher.   Well, everyone but Harry does.  He mostly just questions the others or talks about Quidditch and such.  After all, he can’t very well explain to them that he spent most of the summer recovering from a particularly vicious beating his Uncle had given him a few days after returning home.  He’d found Harry reading one of Lillie’s old letters, beaten Harry, and then burnt every bit of mail Harry had from his old friend.  Between that and the things his Aunt Marge had said about his parents…Harry thinks maybe it was just a matter of time before he ran away anyway.  Sufficed to say, even before this Sirius Black business and the dementors, Harry wasn’t in a talkative mood.  Ginny spends most of the train ride trying to pry more knowledge about Severus out of Lupin which has Harry fidgeting slightly in discomfort. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.  Jamie seems to find it hilarious though.

Harry can only hope the year continues this way, because if the worst that happens is Harry being confronted with homosexuality, well, he’ll take uncomfortableness over near death any day.  And really, he does like Lupin, he’ll just avoid the topic entirely.

 

“Hey, Harry!”

Harry looks over to see Lupin’s kid walking towards him, the twins and Lee Jordan coming over too and leading Ron and Hermione away.  “Jamie, right?” He asks.

The Slytherin nods, “I’m sorry about Draco but, for the record, I passed out too.” Harry nods, the twins had mentioned it.  He appreciates the sentiment but is rather confused what Malfoy has to do with her.  “I um, you look like him.” Harry frowns in confusion.  “James Potter, I mean.”

His eyes widen instantly, “You knew him?” He asks, near awe in his voice.

“I uh, I’m named after him.”  Harry’s eyes widen even further, quite comically in fact.  “He and Lily were my Aunt and Uncle, in every way that mattered.  I used to play with you and Neville when we were kids,” Jamie explains, Harry gasps slightly. “You’re my cousin.”

Harry flounders for a moment, unsure what to do with this information or how to react, but one question pushes its way to the forefront of his mind. “W-Why haven’t you ever said anything?”

Jamie takes a deep breath, “Draco’s my cousin too and, well, first day you offended him and things kept getting worse.  I’m quite protective of him, you see.  Rather backwards of me to take his side when the whole reason I’m protective is from losing you and Nev.  But um, well he’s grown into a bit of a jerk and I can’t really fault you for that.  I’m sorry,” She says.

Harry annoyingly finds his eyes tear up slightly, he clears his throat and blinks it away.  “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jamie says rather sternly, as though admonishing herself as much as correcting Harry.  “Harry, our family was big, it was.  We had aunts and uncles and cousins and family friends and all sorts.  I lost so much that night, but you lost it all.  I know what it’s like to lose your parents, I did too, once.  But my Dad came back.  I only wish I could reunite you with yours too.” 

Harry smiles at her, emotion filling his eyes that he doesn’t seem to know what to do with.  In the end he just nods at her.  “Thank you, cousin.”  Jamie grins, nodding at him, clearly happy with how this conversation has gone.  All Harry knows is, here’s another person Sirius Black took everything from.

He hopes the man is caught soon.

 

After Hagrid is announced as the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Harry is extremely excited for his class.  He’s very happy for him as well, knowing how much it will mean to him.  Even among this, though, he can’t help wondering about Professor Lupin.  He had seemed nice enough on the train, and Madam Pomfrey had been glad about the chocolate, but Harry had seen the pleased expressions on Slytherin table.  Particularly Malfoy and his friends’.  No one who is that well liked among Slytherin can be good news.  That and, he can’t understand how the fun and kind man he’d spoken to on the train can possibly be married to Severus Snape, who looked about as happy as a kangaroo in snow when his ….hu-husband’s appointment had been announced.  Then again, if Jamie is really his cousin, doesn’t that mean her Dad must have been close with his?  But Snape _hates_ Harry’s Dad, so how does it all fit together?  He chooses to put it out of his mind for now, and instead focus on congratulating his friend.

 

Harry wakes up the next morning, still disbelieving of the deal he made with Malfoy yesterday.  How protective Malfoy seemed to be of this new professor was so completely out of character, especially given he had been his usual arrogant self to the man a mere two hours prior.  Honestly though, the oddest thing about the whole morning was watching Professor Lupin and Snape pass notes only to be caught and told off by Professor McGonagall who seemed… _fond_ of them.  And to see Snape _smile_ when he looked over to Lupin afterwards though Lupin does not seem to have seen that. 

Harry looked away from it, clearing his throat and shifting awkwardly.  Even through his unease about… _it_ , he has to admit that Snape does seem fond of the other man.

_Maybe there’s a reason he married him after all._

 

Despite that thought, Harry can’t help but retract it after seeing the way the two interact in the Staff Room before what Harry internally calls ‘The Boggart Fiasco’.  He’s glad, of course, that Lupin would stand up for his students even against his own – well – _you know_ – but it’s baffling.  Lupin isn’t ignoring the bad parts of Snape, he can quite clearly see them and dislikes them as much as everyone else, so why is he… _with_ …him?  That and, after that odd potion Lupin drank, Harry’s pretty sure Snape is trying to poison him.

 

Even through all this, Harry finds himself repeatedly thinking back on his conversation with Jamie Lupin.  So, one afternoon when he has nothing better to do, he stops trying to ignore his curiosity and goes to find her.

“Hey, Jamie?” Harry asks as he approaches the girl in the library. 

Jamie looks up at him and smiles.  “Hi Bambi.”

“Bambi?” Harry asks in confusion.

Jamie clears her throat awkwardly, “Sorry, something everyone used to call you.”

“How come?” He asks, unsure how that nickname could possibly have come about, but thinking it rather apt considering his mother was killed in front of him.  He pushes those thoughts away and focuses back on his cousin who frowns in thought.

“You know, I don’t actually remember, but I’m pretty sure it was either Uncle Padfoot or Uncle Prongs who came up with it,” She tells him.

Harry eyes her in bewilderment, “Uncle who now?” 

Jamie chuckles, “Prongs is James.  He, my Dad, and two of their friends had stupid nicknames for each other in school and it stuck.  Always surprised me, my Dad doesn’t really strike me as someone who would deal with something so juvenile but, apparently he came up with Uncle Wormy’s nickname ‘Wormtail’,” She explains.

“What was your Dad’s?” Harry asks.

His cousin frowns again, “I don’t know, he doesn’t talk about the past much,” Jamie replies.  Harry frowns too, his Aunt Phia had been like that and so are Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.  “Anyway, can I help you with something?”

“This actually.  Sort of.  I was just hoping you could tell me about my parents,” Harry replies honestly.

Jamie smiles sadly, presumably because dead relatives.  “I don’t remember much but – I can try?” She offers, he nods enthusiastically so she gestures for him to take a seat at the library desk she had been working at.  “Uncle Prongs was fun.  He and Uncle Padfoot were the best of mates.  Lived together, actually, along with Aunt Lily and Auntie Del.”

“Who is Padfoot?  And Del?”

Jamie bites her lip awkwardly.  “Erm, I don’t remember Uncle Padfoot’s real name, only that he isn’t around anymore.  Not entirely sure why.  Auntie Del was his wife.  She’s in Muggle prison, don’t know why, but Dad and Daddle take me and my brothe…my brother to visit her sometimes.”  Harry’s mildly surprised to hear that Snape has not one but _two_ children and wonders how Jamie is so nice after being raised by… _that_.  “The four lived together in Godric’s Hollow, nice house.  Nev and I used to be there a lot as well.  Things were hard at the time, there was a war on.  We were generally left in the care of whoever from the group could watch us.”

“The group?” Harry asks, eyes lighting up as he realises that Jamie was telling the truth when she first told him the family had been big.  Even if none are around anymore, that thought still brings him comfort and a feeling of love and warmth.

“Our family.  A group of people who had been friends for so long they really were family.  My Dad and Daddle are the only ones left now.”  Harry can see the tears in his cousin’s eyes as she says this and feels the sting of tears in his own.  He had guessed, of course, but to know for certain that his family is largely dead still hurts to hear.  “Well, Uncle Lu and Auntie Drom were sort of part of it at different times and they’re still alive and…sane, but they weren’t as close as the others.”

“Who were the others?” He can’t help but ask.

Jamie bites her lip in thought, “Well, we had an Auntie Marley.  I think she lived with Dad, Uncle Padfoot, and I at some point.  I don’t really know why we were all living together, but anyway.  There’s Auntie Alice and Uncle Frank, Neville’s parents.  They’re in hospital, I won’t say why in case Neville would prefer that not be known, but we go to visit them too.  Then, Aunt Lily, Uncle Prongs, and Auntie Del.  We had an Aunt Mary but I never met her, Dad said she died before I could so I guess that means before I was born.  Um, Daddle, though at the time he was just Uncle Sev to me.  He and Dad weren’t married yet.  I think my Mum might have been part of it but I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

Harry frowns in confusion at the mention of Neville’s parents before another question that hadn’t actually occurred to him until now rears its head within his mind.  “Who was she?”

Jamie sighs, looking troubled, “Not a hundred percent sure on that either.  I know she’s in Azkaban, don’t know why, or her name.  I only know that she was, apparently, a member of the Black family.  And the only reason I know that because the sorting hat mentioned it when I started here.  Like I said, Dad doesn’t talk about the past much.”

“Black as in Sirius Black?” Harry asks, gaze darkening slightly.

Jamie hesitates a moment before answering, “I would assume so, but I don’t know.”

“I um, I overheard some Professors talking about Sirius Black being my God-Father,” Harry tells her quietly.  He’s not sure what he hopes to gain by bringing this up, except that he doesn’t want to believe his parents were betrayed by their friend, by the one they had trusted Harry’s future care with.  He needs to hear it from someone who was there, someone who would know.  “They said he’s the one who betrayed my parents.” 

To Harry’s great shock, Jamie shakes her head.  “He _is_ your God-Father, technically.  So is Daddle, by the way.  I know a lot of people think he betrayed Aunt Lily and Uncle Prongs, my parents included, but he didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“…it’s complicated.” 

Harry frowns, digesting that and privately thinking it would be a lot less complicated if Jamie gave him a straight answer.  “But you’re sure?  Really and truly sure?”  Jamie nods without hesitation.  Harry hesitates a moment, remembering his brief plan to kill the man and feeling it fall apart in his mind.  “They’re going to have him killed when he’s found, aren’t they?”

“I imagine the Dementor’s kiss is awaiting him, yes.”

Harry sees the tears in his cousin’s eyes and feels a surge of panic within himself.  “If he’s innocent we have to prove it then!”  Jamie looks at him in surprise.  He knows that must’ve been a surprise but Harry knows what it’s like to have the world persecute you for something that isn’t your fault.  He sighs, “I can’t let an innocent man die.  Besides, if we prove him innocent we can find out who really did it.”

“Harry…I’m not so sure you getting involved will help.  Everyone’s watching you really closely and if they start questioning stuff…”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, “What?” Jamie looks around, clearly flustered.  “What aren’t you saying?”

Jamie sighs, taking a deep breath before looking back at her cousin, “There’s some things that you should know.”

 

Harry walks back into the common room in a sort of daze.  Everything he knew about himself is a lie.  All those years he spent wondering, the awe he had felt when the Polkas had told him…and it wasn’t real.  At least he can take comfort in the fact that there’s no way they had known.

Still, he’s not sure how to deal with this.  Where does he go from here?  What does he do?  His Dad is alive and out there right now.  On the run for a crime he didn’t commit.  And the real culprit, Peter Pettigrew, is free somewhere.  Supposedly nearby!

“Harry?”  Harry looks up to see Neville looking at him in concern.  He now knows that Neville is a sort of cousin of his, but Neville doesn’t.  Should he tell him?  Would that be weird?  Would Neville believe him?  

“Oi, Potter!” Harry blinks and notices that Seamus is beside a very worried looking Neville now and most of the Common Room is looking at him in concern.  Would they if they knew who his real Dad is?  Would anyone look at him the same if they knew he’s not the son of Lily and James Potter?  That he’s the heir to the Black family?  Hermione had done some researched, he knows what that means.

“What’s going on?” Ron asks as he and Hermione walk into the room from who knows where.

“Dunno, he just walked in like this.  Wouldn’t talk to Neville or me, don’t know that he’s even hearing us,” Seamus explains.

Hermione frowns as she walks over and waves a hand in front of Harry’s face.  “Harry?” She asks.  Harry thinks of Hermione as a sort of sister, has for a long time too.  But now he knows he has a real sister, somewhere out there, lost in the Muggle world, possibly in an even worse situation than Harry is in himself.

Harry backs up a couple of steps.  “I-I can’t…”

“Mate, what’s going on?” Ron asks, taking a step closer.  Harry’s breathing picks up as he looks from one person to the next, all seeming to be closing in around him, getting closer and closer though they aren’t moving, suffocating him like the remains of the life he has been living, a life that is a lie and he can’t breathe, he can’t-he can’t... _Is anything even real anymore?  Am I?_

“Harry!” Hermione calls in alarm.

Harry blinks at her, wondering why he’s laying on the floor looking up at her.  “Wh-What happened?” Harry asks.  The others exchange worried looks above his head.

“You passed out, Mate,” Ron says.

“Gave us quite the scare,” Seamus adds.

“Oh,” Harry says, remembering his panic from what seems just a moment ago.  “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Harry, you just passed out,” Hermione tells him strongly.

“I’m fine, Hermione,” Harry insists as he gets up. Ron helps him stand while everyone watches on in concern.  “Just hungry.  Skipped lunch.  I’ll be fine.”

Hermione frowns in concern before she nods, “Make sure you eat dinner.”

“Yes, _Mrs Weasley_ ,” Harry tells her, Ron snickers as Hermione rolls her eyes but seems amused.

 

That night, Harry’s Dad breaks into the castle and slashes the Pink Lady’s painting.

Harry lays in his sleeping bag, staring at the enchanted ceiling and questioning if Jamie is right about him being innocent and Pettigrew guilty.  And if she is, then why is his Dad doing this?  Harry rolls over onto his side and sighs. 

When, eventually, he does fall asleep, he dreams of a father who is freed from Azkaban, exonerated, and turns up at Hogwarts just to see Harry.  He invites Harry to come home with him.  Together they find Harry’s sister, and his Mum, and then they go to India and see Lillie.  But when they return to England and Harry turns back to his Dad walking through the airport behind him, he’s wearing prison clothes and laughing madly just as he had been in the Daily Prophet.  Harry gasps as he wakes up, sunlight streaming into the room and half blinding him.

“All right, Harry?”

Harry looks up to see Neville rolling up his sleeping bag.  He clears his throat as he sits up and nods, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

Harry retreats into himself as the school talks of Sirius Black, and only Sirius Black, for days.  His eating difficulties take a turn for the worst, but with everything going on Percy is too busy and doesn’t notice.  He’s not sure whether to be glad about that or not.  Harry hears Hermione call Ron ‘Ronald’ and is suddenly reminded of a dream he once had in which someone called him ‘Harrison’.  _Is that my name?_ he wonders, _Harrison Black?_ He shakes it off.  He still remembers the way he heard the name, Harrison was screamed in terror and he never wants to hear it again.  He is not Harrison Black, he can’t be.  That family he should have had is not his, not anymore.  He will help Jamie in anyway he can because he will not allow an innocent man to be punished, but that is it.  He has never had a Dad and he doesn’t want one now.

He doesn’t truly manage to convince himself of this.

 

During Snape’s DADA lesson while Lupin is off sick, Harry looks at him and wonders what exactly his parents were thinking making this man his God-Father.  He is cruel, and vile, and how Professor Lupin can be married to him he has absolutely no idea.  But this only re-enforces his wish to stay well away from his family.  Still, he can’t quite bring himself to dislike Lupin, and he finds himself talking with his cousin Jamie more and more, even as he continues pushing everyone else away.

 

One day, while Harry sitting morosely in the library with Hermione and Ron, the two bickering because Ron doesn’t want to study and Hermione is insisting on it, Lupin and Binns walk in, loudly arguing about something.

“You-You have not changed since you were and arrogant know-it-all child!” Binns tells him viciously.  Harry exchanges wide-eyed looks with his best friends. 

Lupin rolls his eyes, “Better a ‘know-it all child’ than a teacher who _does not even know his own subject!_ ”

Pince clears her throat pointedly, “If you two are going to behave like children, then I will treat you as children and remove you from the library _again_ , am I clear?”

“Yes, Madam Pince,” Binns replies.

“You have our sincerest apologies,” Lupin adds.

“Hah, sincere apologies, out of you?” Binns asks, Lupin glares at him.

“What is going on?” Hermione asks as the two teachers head further into the stacks.

“Professor McGonagall gave the both of them detention this weekend,” Ron reveals, snickering.  “Apparently, they were arguing like that in front of her, used to do it all the time when Lupin was a student.”

“How do you _know_ this?” Harry asks Ron who shrugs.

“Been paying attention.”

“Oh, so you _are_ capable of paying attention to things?” Hermione asks.

“Yeah, unlike you who doesn’t pay attention to that bloody cat of yours.  It’s a wonder more rats aren’t dying of fright!”

Harry tunes them out as he looks in the direction Lupin and Binns went.  Thanks to Jamie, he knows that Lupin was friends with his Dad.  So, if Binns taught Lupin, then he must have taught his Dad.  Harry wonders how many other Professors might know his Dad.

The trio have left the library by the time Lupin and Binns get kicked out again, but Neville tells them about it later and it’s the first time in a while that Harry laughs.

 

As the rift between Ron and Hermione grows stronger, Harry finds himself caught in the middle of their imploding friendship.  Right now, Harry wishes he could have their support but instead he just feels more lonely.  He spends the time with Ginny and trying to get to know Neville more, now that he knows the boy is his cousin.  He finds he has a surprising amount in common with the deceitfully intelligent Gryffindor.

 

With Lupin back in lessons, Harry doesn’t have to worry about Snape and once more finds himself thinking on his parents.  He looks out of the window, _My Dad is out there somewhere, alone, maybe scared.  Why won’t Jamie let me help?!  I just want to help!  Doesn’t she understand that I don’t want to be alone anymore?_  

Harry doesn’t pay attention to the lesson, but he goes to Lupin after class.  The teacher seems distracted and Harry wonders if that’s the only reason he agreed to teach him how to defend against Dementors.  Regardless of why, Harry’s glad for it.  The screaming he hears really gives him a headache.

 

Harry…really was not prepared to hear James and Lily Potter dying when facing off against the Dementor Boggart.

Suddenly it’s not just that he wants his Dad to be freed.  He wants the true culprit found and captured.  He wants Pettigrew imprisoned for life, or worse.  He will be punished.  Harry will make damned sure of that.

 

“AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!  NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Harry wakes up in the middle of an odd dream.  Trying to find the edge of the bed hangings in the dark while half asleep, Harry distractedly thinks he hears the door to the dormitory slam.

“What’s going on?” Seamus asks.  At last, Harry rips back his curtains to find Dean’s torch on and Ron staring in horror.

“Black!  Sirius Black!  With a knife!”

“ _What_?” Dean asks in shock.  Harry feels everything go numb.  He doesn’t need Ron telling them to look at the curtains.  He already had and can clearly see where they were slashed with the knife.  He scrambles out of bed, frantic as he rushes out of the dorm with the others and hurries down to the common room, hoping beyond hope to catch up with his Dad.  He’s not sure what he would have said or done had he managed that, but it hardly matters because the common room is deserted.

Harry sinks into a chair in the corner of the common room as the commotion carries on, as McGonagall arrives, as Neville admits to being the one who left the passwords laying around.

He remains sitting silently as everything happens around him, knowing the castle is being searched again.  He does not speak until McGonagall returns and starts tearing into Neville.

“UTTER FOOLISHNESS!  I NEVER-”

“Professor, Neville did not break into the tower, or escape Azkaban, or do horrible things!  You aren’t yelling at Sirius Black, you are yelling at a scared kid!” Harry finally snaps.  Everyone looks to him in shock.  “We all know he’s not got a good memory and you change the passwords every week.  Yes, we need to keep Sirius Black out, and yes, Neville shouldn’t have left it laying around.  But then, Sirius Black shouldn’t be trying to break into the tower and into our dorm.  It’s not Neville’s fault that Sirius Black is a bad man who is trying to hurt people!  Shouting at him won’t change what happened and there is no way Neville was going to do that again even if you hadn’t yelled at him.  So I don’t know what you’re planning on accomplishing here, but it won’t work.”

The common room is stunned into silence.  Harry stares in his own shock for a moment before he just storms away up to the dorm.  He sits in his bed for a moment before he walks over and looks at Ron’s bed hangings again.  He lightly touches the curtains, feeling along the slashed parts.  He feels tears in his eyes and furiously wipes them away.

“Why are you doing this, Dad?” Harry whispers.  Then he shakes it all off.  Sirius is innocent, there’s a reason for this.  He trusts Jamie, and Jamie trusts Sirius.

There’s a reason.

 

“Harry?” Neville says at breakfast the next day.

“Yeah Neville?” He asks, gloomily staring into his bowl.  Everyone has been treading on eggshells around him this morning, apparently afraid of him blowing up at them like he did McGonagall.

“I-I just wanted to say thanks.  McGonagall’s given me detention and banned me from Hogsmeade.  I’m not allowed the password anymore but…well I think it would’ve been worse if you hadn’t stepped in.  I promise, I won’t let it happen again, I won’t let you down.”

Harry does look up then, eyes softening at his cousin.  “Neville, I’ve not forgotten the way you stood up to Ron, Mione, and me back in first year.  It took courage.  I don’t doubt you for a moment.”  Neville smiles at him, nodding slightly.  “Care to join us?” Harry asks, gesturing to the seat beside him, not occupied by Hermione because of the stupid feud between her and Ron.

“Thanks.”

 

“…But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you.  Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry.  A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.”  Lupin stalks off and Harry is certain he has never felt more anger in his life.  Harry’s parents didn’t do anything of the sort and how _dare_ Lupin attempt to use that lie to _guilt_ Harry into behaving.  But then another thought occurs to Harry.  James and Lily Potter were the Professor’s friends, and parents or not they did give their lives to save his.  Perhaps it truly angered Lupin to watch his friends’ sacrifice be squandered by an idiotic school boy looking for a bit of fun.  For perhaps the first time ever, it occurs to Harry that he isn’t the only one who lost something that night.  Lupin, Jamie, _Snape_ of all people, they lost family too.

Harry sighs, knowing Lupin is right.  He has to be more responsible.  It’s this that has him deciding to leave the cloak where it is for now.  Enough was risked today.

“Come to have a good gloat?” Ron asks Hermione as she walks over to them.  “Or have you just been to tell on us?”

“No,” Hermione replies.  She holds a letter in her hands, seeming quite upset about something.  “I just thought you ought to know…Hagrid lost his case.  Buckbeak is going to be executed.”

 

Harry is 100% sure that he has never seen anything so glorious, and never will again, as seeing Hermione Granger _bitch_ slap Draco Malfoy right across his sodding face!  He reckons that memory ought to power his Patronus no problem.

 

Harry sits by a window, morosely staring out of it.  He dreamt last night about the Grim Trelawney had mentioned and, when he woke, he clearly remembered the encounter he had had with that big black dog just before getting on the Knight Bus.  Even hours later he still can’t shake the feeling that it means something more than Hermione will admit.  If Sirius does kill him, if Jamie is wrong, if he _is_ guilty…but he’s not.  He’s _not_. Harry isn’t sure how long he can keep believing this, even with the proof of Pettigrew’s name on the map.  He promised Mr Weasley he wouldn’t go looking for Sirius Black but Harry isn’t so sure anymore that he can avoid it.  He _has_ to know the truth and the only way to do that is to find and talk to his Dad.

“Want to tell us what’s been going on with you, mate?” Ron asks.

Harry looks away from the window to find both Ron and Hermione standing behind him with worry.  He debates with himself for a moment before deciding there’s no point to shouldering this alone.  Perhaps they can help.  “Jamie Lupin is my cousin,” He replies, his two friends look surprised as they sit either side of him.

“What?” Ron asks in surprise.

Harry nods, “Our parents were really close, she’s even named after James Potter.  Turns out that Snape is my God-Father, too.”

“Hell of a God-Father he is,” Ron mutters, Harry chuckles.

Hermione thwacks Ron on the arm before turning back to Harry, “Is this what you’ve been so upset about?”

Harry shakes his head, “No, but…I trust you guys more than anything, you know that, right?”  They nod.  “Do you trust me the same?”  Again they nod, Harry nods too, deciding he’s stalled long enough.  “There are some things you don’t know about me, things _I_ didn’t know until a couple of weeks ago.”

“What?” Ron prompts.

Harry hesitates for one more moment before deciding to just come out with it.  “Sirius Black is my Father.”

“…erm,” Ron says awkwardly.

“Harry, what are you talking about?” Hermione asks.

With a sigh, Harry begins relaying all the information that Jamie had given him.  Hermione and Ron pay close attention to all of it and do not interrupt until it’s over.

“Wow,” Ron states, “You really can’t catch a break, Mate.”  Harry chuckles humourlessly and nods.

Hermione looks at him with pursed lips as she thinks for a moment.  “Okay but, I don’t understand.  Why the lie?  Why tell everyone your Aunt and Uncle are your parents?” She questions.

Harry shrugs, “I don’t know.  Jamie doesn’t remember.  She was three at the time, it’s not exactly surprising.”

“And Black is innocent?” Ron asks, Harry nods.  “Then who’s guilty?”

“Peter Pettigrew apparently.”

“But I thought he died?” Hermione asks.

“So did everyone else.  But I saw his name on the map, before Jamie even told me.  He’s alive, I went to look for him but he wasn’t there.  I thought the map had just stuffed up until Jamie explained everything.”

Hermione frowns, “Should we mention it to Professor Lupin?”

“I did when he took the map, he knows I saw Pettigrew.” 

The three sit in a heavy silence for a moment before Ron breaks it.  “Everyday is a bloody adventure with you, isn’t it?” he comments.  Tense atmosphere now broken, the three laugh together, and Harry thinks maybe things aren’t so bad after all.

But this was only the beginning, and somehow, he knew it.

 

The build up to the Quidditch finals, along with studying for end of year exams, was the most intense anxiousness that Harry has ever felt.  Not helped by the fact that Ron and Hermione keep looking at him in some mix between concern and pity.  “What?  Think I’m about to blow a bunch of people up like my Dad supposedly did?” Harry snaps viciously one day in the common room when he’s had enough.  He stalks out of the room.

He feels guilty about it and returns to apologise, only they apologise instead.  Things seem back to normal after that, and when Harry sees the Black Dog on the grounds along with Crookshanks, he pushes it aside as pre-game nerves.  Changing into his Quidditch robes, Harry wonders if perhaps, somehow, his Dad might watch this match.  From behind some trees or underneath the stands.

Of course Harry knows he can’t, hopes he won’t because he doesn’t want him to be caught.  But he still can’t help wondering and wanting to make him proud.  That thought pushes him to work harder more than any cheering from his house ever could.

When they win Harry’s so happy he forgets all about his hopes of Sirius Black watching and being proud.  He’s always felt alone, but here’s three quarters of a school cheering on the team, cheering on _him_.

Harry hasn’t been alone in three years.

 

Exams…were interesting.  He’ll never understand how Lillie could have such a fondness for tests, but he sincerely doubts it’s dulled at all in the three years it’s been since they’ve spoken.  He goes to his Astronomy exam rather downhearted after that thought.  He wonders what she’d think of this Sirius Black business.  Probably, she’d have dragged him out of the castle under the cover of darkness to track the man down herself within a week of the teachers being unable to find him.

She’d have found him within an hour, Harry’s sure.

Harry is entirely unsurprised that, of all people, Professor R.J. Lupin managed to make an exam _fun_.  Though, Hermione didn’t agree with that sentiment.

“P-P-Professor McGonagall!” Hermione gasps, pointing into the trunk containing the Boggart.  “Sh-she said I’d failed everything!”  Ron burst our laughing, dropping down onto his knees and requiring his hands on the ground to stabilise him.  Hermione continues near sobbing in fright as Lupin tries to reassure her.

“Now, now Miss Granger.  You haven’t failed my exam, at the very least.”  Harry cringes, unsurprised when this statement only makes Hermione cry harder.  He pulls her into a hug, stroking her fuzzy hair gently as he attempts to calm her.  It’s awkward, he’s not great with emotions and he’s never tried to console anyone apart from Lillie when she moved to India, but it works and eventually Hermione calms.

Ron’s still laughing slightly when the trio walk back to the school and find Fudge readying for Buckbeak’s execution, despite the fact that the appeal hasn’t even taken place yet!  His mentioning of the Sirius Black business has Hermione and Ron sending worried looks to Harry once more, but Harry ignores it.

Trelawney’s prediction does not settle Harry any.  _At the very least,_ Harry thinks to himself as he rushes to find Hermione and Ron, _tonight I will know for sure._

The news of Buckbeak’s lost appeal ruins any calm such thoughts had brought him.

 

Rushing back up to the castle after seeing Hagrid, Ron suddenly stops.

“Oh, please, Ron,” Hermione begs, unable to handle watching Buckbeak be executed.

But Scabbers won’t stay still in Ron’s pocket, and now they’ve heard the swish of an axe.

Ron and Hermione stop Harry from running right back to Hagrid, but with Scabbers continuing to try and escape Ron, their progress back to the castle remains stunted and Fudge will be heading back to the castle at any moment!

Harry spots Crookshanks heading towards them at the same moment as Hermione does.

“Crookshanks!” Hermione moans, “No, go away, Crookshanks!  Go away!”

It’s not use though.  The cat closes in, Scabbers escapes, and suddenly Ron leaves the relative safety of the invisibility cloak and sprints off into the dark after his rat.  Hermione and Harry run after him, arriving as Ron manages to grab Scabbers and shove him back into his pocket.  Just as they make to get Ron back under the cloak, they hear thundering, giant paws.  Bounding towards them, Harry spots the pale-eyed, jet black, bloody _enormous_ dog that he’s seen now three times before. 

The Grim.

It leaps at Harry, knocking him down.  As the dog returns for a second attack, Harry attempts to stand again.  But the dog pushes Harry aside and fastens it’s jaws tight around Ron’s leg.  Harry attempts to grab the dog, but it drags Ron away as though he is a ragdoll.  The dog pulls Ron underneath the tree that, after being pelted by a branch, Harry realises is the Whomping Willow.  This tree that Harry has seen, and felt, destroy a _car_.  That’s where they managed to run underneath on their mad dash after Scabbers.  Harry hates his luck.  They hear and see Ron’s leg break as he tries to stay above ground, he disappears from sight all together.

“Harry – we’ve got to go for help –” Hermione cries.

“No!  That thing’s big enough to eat him, we haven’t got time –”

“We’re never going to get through without help –”  A branch swinging by cuts her off.

Harry looks forth with determination, “If that dog can get in, we can,” He pants.  He dances around, attempting to find a way past the vicious branches, but can’t get through without getting hit once more.

Just as all hope seemed lost, Crookshanks appears and presses a knot at the base of the tree.  The branches stop moving immediately.

“Crookshanks!” Hermione whispers uncertainly.  “How did he know –?” Hermione begins to ask, clutching Harry’s arm painfully.

“He’s friends with that dog,” Harry informs her grimly, “I’ve seen them together,” He reveals, “Come on – and keep your wand out –”

They follow Crookshanks into a tunnel beneath the tree.  They follow the tunnel until they come up into a very disordered and dusty room.  They creep through the house, eventually finding Ron in a room upstairs.

“Harry,” Ron says as he walks in, seeming breathless but surprisingly…calm?  “Harry it’s him,” he says, “He’s an Animagus.” 

Harry turns quickly and, at long last, comes face to face with Sirius Black.

“You _idiot_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:
> 
> Okay, so, eight chapters. But no more than that, I swear! It’s done now and I’m not going to change anything again this time.
> 
> Also, can e talk about the fact that JK decided to use the adjective ‘grimly’ in this chapter of PoA? I can’t decide if the pun is intended or not, and either way, if it’s a poor choice of words or a bloody brilliant one.
> 
> Anyways, it’s 1:30am here and I’m running off coffee so, apologies for my rambling. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter 😊


	5. Can't Know, Can't See, Can't Run

**_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter._ **

 

“You _idiot_!” Harry says.  He’s spent so long debating what he’ll say when he finally comes face to face with his Dad, somehow he was expecting something more profound…

“Erm, Harry?” Hermione asks.

Harry ignores her, “What the bloody hell were you _thinking_ coming to Surrey?  You don’t think that would be the first place they’d think to look?  You could’ve been caught then and there!” He admonishes, “And scratching up the Pink Lady like that?  What’s she ever done to you?  She was only doing her job you bloody moron!” He continues.

“Mate –” Ron tries to say.  A hand thrown up in his direction has Ron sighing but shutting up.

“And a knife?  A _knife_?!” Harry asks.

Sirius winces, “I wasn’t looking for you,” He says. 

For some reason, Harry’s surprised by his voice.  He was expecting a rough or raw sound, but this voice doesn’t sound as though it’s been unused for twelve years.  He wonders who Sirius has been talking to.  “THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT!” Harry shouts at him, “You frightened the crap out of Ron, out of all of us.  For God’s sake, I was awake quick enough to hear you shut the door.  Do you have _any_ idea how close you were to being caught?!  It was bad enough the first time, Jamie and I were worried _sick_ that you would do something stupid and get caught.  Then that happened, HAVE YOU NO IDEA WHAT YOU’VE BEEN PUTTING HER THROUGH?!”

“Har-”

“I’m not done!” Harry snaps.  Sirius shuts up, absentmindedly petting Crookshanks as he crawls onto the convict’s lap.  “You needed help!  If you’d just _ask_ instead of grabbing one of my _best friends_ by the leg and breaking it!”  Sirius sits on the floor and glances sheepishly to Ron. 

“Um…” All occupants of the room turn to the door and find Lupin standing there.

Harry moves instantly in front of Sirius defensively.  To his great shock, Lupin raises his hands in surrender.

“He’s innocent, Professor,” Harry tells him sternly.

Lupin’ eyes flick between Harry and Sirius. “Where is he?” Sirius slowly points to Ron who seems confused.  Harry reckons he must mean Pettigrew, but what’s Ron got to do with that?  “You switched without telling me, right?” Sirius nods and now Harry has no clue what they mean.  Whatever it is though must convince Lupin because he pockets his wand and pushes past Harry to pull Sirius to his feet, embracing him tightly.  Harry shares a look of shock with his two best friends, Ron’s slightly undermined by the pain clear in his gaze from his leg.

“We have to get him,” Sirius tells Remus, sounding a tad deranged.

“Get who?” Hermione asks.

Lupin sighs, “Peter Pettigrew.”

“He’s not in here,” Harry tells them as though that’s obvious.  Which, to be fair, a quick look around the room would tell them it is.

Lupin clears his throat, “Peter Pettigrew is an Animagus.” 

The three kids blink at him.  “Ohhhhh.”

“So wait, both Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, apparently people you know, were Animagus’ and you knew nothing of it?” Ron asks challengingly.  Remus looks sheepish.

“But you did know, didn’t you?” Hermione asks, “You’re why they did it.  To help you because you’re a Werewolf.”  Harry and Ron’s eyes widen comically as they look to their Professor.

Lupin’s face goes pale, he clears his throat awkwardly, “Right up to your usual standard, aren’t you Miss Granger.”  He clears his throat again as Sirius puts a hand on his shoulder.  “I won’t deny that I am a Werewolf.”  Everyone takes a moment to digest this before Lupin speaks again, “How long have you known?”

“Ages,” Hermione responds, “Since I did Professor Snape’s essay.”

Lupin gives a near full body flinch as he nods, “Yes we thought that might happen.”

“Why risk it then?” Ron asks, looking weary of Lupin.

It’s Harry that saves Lupin from answering, “So wait, all the time off being ill, that was because of Lycanthropy?”

Lupin nods, “Yes.”  Harry feels his breath catch in his throat as things finally _finally_ slot together.  The sick days, the sudden move, the secrecy surrounding continued communication, why Aunt Petunia blamed them when Hogwarts wrote to Harry.

Lillie Polka is a Werewolf.

Which means she’d known all along who Harry is, who his publicly-believed parents are.  That’s how she knew his last name.  She knew the Potters didn’t die in a car crash, she knew how Harry got his scar, she knew he was a wizard.

She lied.  About everything.

Lupin goes on to explain, along with Sirius, who exactly Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were.

It’s difficult, when Sirius continues to throw in his wish to commit murder every few minutes.  Given the circumstances, Harry and the others ignore his less than stellar disposition.  Lupin explains the trick that Sirius had played on Snape and Harry correctly assumes this is what Snape had alluded to weeks ago when he spoke of a joke gone wrong leading to James Potter saving his life.

“Serves him right…” Sirius begins with a sneer.

Lupin turns to look at him harshly, “Sirius, shut it.” Ron snickers slightly at hearing such things from a Professor.  Especially to a supposed murderer.  Harry’s not finding much of anything funny at the moment.  Thankfully, Lupin continues, “The point is, Sirius told Severus how to get passed the Whomping Willow, tricked him into coming in, which I still don’t have a clear idea on how exactly, by the way Padfoot.” Sirius waves Professor Lupin off and, surprisingly, Lupin lets him.  “James went and saved him before he got hurt, at great risk to his life.  Dumbledore made sure it stayed quiet and no one got expelled, but from then on…things were different.”

“So, that’s why Snape doesn’t like you, because he thought you were in on the joke?  How on Earth did you two end up married?” Harry asks incredulously.  Clearly there’s a lot missing to this story.

Sirius snaps round to look at Lupin.  “You _married_ that greasy git?!” Despite everything, Ron finds himself amused once more.

Lupin sighs, “This really isn’t the point Padfoot.”  It still strikes the students as odd to hear their Professor calling the other by this nickname.

“Perhaps it should be!”

Only Harry isn’t in the mood to be brought off topic.  He’s finally getting the answers he’s always wanted.  On so many things. “Is this why your marriage is falling apart?” Harry asks.  Lupin sighs again, rubbing at his forehead.  Hermione swats Harry friend for the insensitive question but he’s so far past the point of caring it’s barely a pinprick in the rearview mirror.

“No,” A voice comes from behind them. Snape pulls off the invisibility cloak, wand pointing at Remus.

Hermione screams, Sirius leaps to his feet, Harry jumps in shock and moves, once more, between Sirius and supposed danger.  Only Sirius immediately moves Harry behind him protectively.  No one sees is, but Harry looks at the back of Sirius’ head in wonderment.  No adult, aside from the Weasleys, have ever shown such care for his safety.

“I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow,” Snape says, throwing the cloak aside, “Very useful, Potter, I thank you…”  He seems slightly breathless, but more than anything appears angry.  Harry internally screams at himself for such stupidity.  “You’re wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?  I’ve just been to your office, Re.  You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I brought a gobletful along.  And very lucky I did…lucky for me, I mean.  Lying on your desk was a certain map.  One glance told me all I needed to know, I saw you running along this passage-way and out of sight.”

“Severus –” Lupin begins, but Snape speaks over him.

“I thought we had an agreement regarding his capture,” He says coldly as he points his free hand at Sirius, “I knew you knew more than you were saying, but I never fathomed you were _actually_ hiding him!  Here, of all places!”  By now, all of the students, and Sirius, are wondering who is on which side of the two of them and trying desperately to figure out what is going on before everything goes to hell.

“Severus, you’re making a mistake,” Lupin tells him urgently, “You haven’t heard everything, I can explain, Sirius is not here to kill Harry –”

“THEN WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE REMUS?!” Snape yells at him.  The students flinch, trained to hear anger in that voice and panic.  Not of being hurt, of course, but of deducted points and disappointment and cruel comments.

“HE’S AN ANIMAGUS!” The small group watch and, to Harry’s mild amusement, they can see Snape freeze, nonplussed. “They all were,” Lupin adds.

“I swear to god Remus…” Snape says, trailing off as he puts a hand on his hip and glares at the ground.  Lupin shrinks in on himself sheepishly.  Sirius looks between the two, flabbergasted by the relationship the two have developed in his absence. “So when I asked, rather pointedly, how he was getting in, how he escaped, and you said you had no idea…?”

“All right so, that may have been a bit of a lie.” Harry cringes in anticipation of Snape’s response. 

Ron seems to be enjoying this a little too much, “Ginny would _love_ this,” He whispers to Hermione and Harry.

“A _bit?!_ ”  Snape asks incredulously.  Lupin goes to speak but Snape holds a hand up to silence him.  Looking both pissed off and disbelieving.  They all stand in silence for a few moments while Snape processes. “All right, all right.  What’s going on?”

“They switched secret keepers without telling us, Peter betrayed us, escaped in his rat form and hid with the Weasleys, Sirius was framed and thrown into Azkaban but escaped to get the rat from Ron and protect Harry.” 

Snape looks confused, “Are you trying to say you broke out of Azkaban just to get your hands on _Scabbers_?” Severus asks Sirius.  “Say Pettigrew could turn into a rat.  There are millions of rats, how’s he supposed to know which one he’s after if he was locked up in Azkaban?” He questions, directing it at Lupin.  Ron nods as though he had been wondering the same thing.

“You know, Sirius, that’s a fair question,” Lupin says tiredly.  Harry supposes it’s been a long day for him, though he can’t help but continue wondering why it is Lupin protected Sirius if he didn’t know he was innocent.  And if he _did_ know, then why not help him this year?  “How _did_ you find out where he was?” Lupin asks Sirius who reaches into his tattered clothing, really just barely held together rags by this point, and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.  He flattens it out and shows it to the rest of them.

Lupin frowns at him, “Is that my jacket?” He asks.  Sirius looks at him guiltily.  “Sirius have you been in my damned house!?”

“N-” Sirius stops speaking for a moment as he sees Harry shake his head mildly from where he is beside Hermione and Ron.  Harry can practically see the moment it clicks in Sirius’ head that admitting he hasn’t been would show that someone from within must have _given_ him the jacket and thus give Jamie’s involvement away.  Instead, Sirius nods, “Yes.” 

Unfortunately, Lupin apparently knows him better than anticipated because he frowns more severely and says, “I don’t believe you.  How did you get that jacket?”

“Will you just look at this, you daft old sod!?” Sirius demands, shoving the paper at him again.  Lupin rolls his eyes and looks at it.  Harry wonders if this is a piece of what the two were like back before Azkaban, before the war, before their lives were ruined.  Before Harry’s life became a lie told and continued by the three men in this room.  Harry looks at Snape, a hatred more severe than he has ever felt for the man rolling through him.  Years, _years_ , he has taught Harry, and not once did he say something.  All those cracks he’s made about Harry’s Father.  Were they about James Potter or Sirius Black?

Does it even matter?  Because when it comes down to it, Harry raised himself.  Everyone around him has mistreated him, abused him, _lied_ to him.  The Dursleys, the Polkas, his supposed God-Father, even Jamie for two years.  He shakes it off and focuses back in on the conversation.  None of that matters anymore.

Harry looks at the picture Sirius is showing them and sees it’s the same photo that Ron had showed him at the beginning of the year.  And there, on Ron’s shoulder, is Scabbers.

Sirius explains Crookshanks’ part in all this, and Lupin seems to be trying rather desperately to convince his husband of Sirius’ innocence.  Harry’s not sure it’s working and is unsurprised when, eventually, Lupin snaps.

“Enough of this, there’s one certain way to prove what really happened.  Ron, _give me that rat_.”

Mere seconds later, a full-grown man stands before them.  Harry feels the oddest sensation that he’s seen him before.  Then again, if everything said tonight has been true, he has.

They speak with Peter who denies everything, whines and cries pathetically, but something in it…Harry can’t put his finger on it.  Harry finds himself believing that Peter didn’t want to do it, that he’d felt he had no choice.

But that makes no difference because Harry grew up being beaten and starved because of the _cowardice_ of the man before him.  No more.  If anyone is going to live a life of fear and pain now, it will be Pettigrew.  Harry feels his face twist into a sneer.

When Sirius talks about Harry flying as well as his Father did, Harry wonders why he is trying so hard to keep up the façade of James Potter being his Father.  It hits him that his Dad has no intention of telling him the truth.

“Believe me,” Sirius begs of Harry, “I never betrayed James and Lily.  I would have _died_ before I betrayed them.”

Harry wants to say something but can’t work out how to form words.  Is he angry?  Is he happy?  Should he tell them that he knows and end this farce right now?  In the end, all he does is nod to show his belief.

“Sev?” Lupin asks.  Harry sees Ron screw his nose up at the pet name. 

Snape looks conflicted.  “I’m sorry about our argument.” The change of topic confuses the others but no one interrupts.

“Which one?” Lupin drawls.  That statement certainly explained the tension everyone had sensed growing between the couple over the course of the year.

“Well, all of them, but the last one about Sirius.  You were right,” Snape tells him.  

Lupin nods but somehow Harry doesn’t think Snape’s apology has changed much.  “So am I.”

“Still can’t believe you married him,” Sirius mutters.

“They were having a moment!” Hermione complains.  Snape huffs, Lupin chuckles slightly, and, despite his clear reservations on the relationship, Sirius smiles at seeing a jovial side of his friend.

Finally though, Harry grows tired of the conversation stalling out, that and he wants to move on from this topic as quickly as possible.  The relationship between his two teachers aside, there’s more he needs to know.  “Jamie’s told me about you lot, you know,” Harry tells them.  His cousin’s Dad-er-Dad _s_ seem surprised.  Harry blows past that and continues speaking, “What she says about you, it doesn’t really match with someone who would make mischief like you used to.”

Sirius nods his agreement, “She said you don’t have a sense of humour, that you aren’t really one for a lot of laughter.” Harry’s not sure if he’d agree with that.  He remembers the way he’d laughed when the frogs were released, he recalls the way he’d shot chewing gum up Peeve’s nostril during their first lesson, and the story he’d told of Lockhart in the train carriage when they’d first met had been surrounded by amusement.

Lupin sighs, “She was helping you then?”

“Oh, we know that by now,” Sirius tells him, Lupin nods.  There was really no denying it at this juncture.

“There hasn’t been much to laugh about, now can we get back to this please?”  They all look back to the traitor.

It’s when Peter finally admits it that things get out of hand.

“After everything he did…how could you?” Lupin asks him.  Peter looks at him, and something changes within his face.  Harry looks on in disbelief because this is not the pathetic snivelling man of a moment ago.  Is it fake?  Or was this bolster of bravado a last ditch attempt at saving a bit of pride?

“Are you any different than he?”

The students all have wide eyes as they look to their Professor.  Lupin looks at Peter, some mixture between horror and disgust as his husband sneers viciously at the rat of a man.  “Maybe once that would have made sense,” Lupin begins, “but not anymore, I have not been _that_ in a very long time.  He took that from me, LIKE HE TOOK EVERYTHING ELSE!”

Sirius looks between his two old friends for a moment before rounding on Peter, though he keeps a half eye on Lupin.  “You sold Lily and James to Voldemort.  Do you deny it?”  Peter bursts into tears again and Harry hates him for it.  How dare he cry when Harry never even knew his family well enough to mourn?

“Wh-What was there to be gained by refusing him?” Pettigrew asks.  For a moment, Harry hears James and Lily’s last moments as clearly as he has when the Dementors close in.

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” Sirius asks furiously, “Only innocent lives, Peter!”

“Calm yourself,” Snape tells him sharply, not wanting things to get out of hand again with his students in the cross-hairs.

“Calm myself?  HE KILLED YOUR BEST FRIEND, YOU KNOW!” Sirius snaps right back.  The statement confuses Harry before he once again remembers the relationship supposedly shared between Harry’s parents and Severus Snape.  Of course, given how much his Dad clearly hates Snape, and how much Snape dislikes him, he’s really not sure why in Merlin’s name Snape was named his God-Father.  Regardless, Harry thinks it’s a safe assumption that Sirius is referring to either James or Lily Potter.

“You don’t understand!” Peter whines, “He would have killed me, Sirius.”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!  DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”

Lupin speaks for the first time in a while.  Despite the words said, his voice is calm and quiet.  “You should have realised.  If Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would.  Goodbye, Peter.”

“NO!” Harry yells as a better idea presents itself in his brain.  One that will cause far more suffering for the man before him.

Lupin purses his lips in irritation, “Harry, this man-”

“He’s right, Rem,” Snape cuts in, “Don’t be like him.”  Lupin scowls at Pettigrew, seemingly _just_ holding himself back from killing the man before him.

“Hand him in and Sirius is free.  Dead, the truth dies with him,” Harry reminds them.  Sirius’ eyes shoot from Lupin to Peter and back again, clearly waiting for the Professor to make a decision.  “I don’t reckon the man James Potter was would’ve wanted his best friends to become killers.  Not for _him_ ,” Harry says, all but spitting the last word as he looks to Peter.  Snape puts a hand on Lupin’s shoulder who leans into it.  Finally, Lupin looks to Black.  They don’t talk or gesture in anyway, yet still they lower their wands in synch, apparently having communicated in some way.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Snape tells Lupin.  “Jamie and Benni need their Father far more than they do their Aunt and Uncle avenged.”  Lupin deflates further, sighing and nodding.

“Benni?” Hermione asks Harry in confusion, correctly assuming he’ll have more information on the family than she does.

“Jamie’s brother I think.”  She’d mentioned a brother but Harry hadn’t asked for a name.  Sirius locks eyes with Harry who can see the debate go on within him on whether or not to tell the truth.  To Harry’s great disappointment, and possibly mild relief, he says nothing.

 

That night Harry and Hermione face off against a Werewolf, time travel, face off against a Werewolf again, Harry casts a Patronus, they perform a break out, ride a Hippogriff, and _did I mention the Werewolf?!_ Before returning just in time for Dumbledore to lock them in.

But it’s while they sit in the forest, waiting for their past selves to re-emerge from the Willow that Hermione brings something up Harry had been hoping to continue not really acknowledging.

“You don’t like that Professor Lupin and Professor Snape are married, do you?” She asks cautiously.

Harry swallows harshly, “I don’t like Professor Snape,” He says.

“Right but, the actual relationship…”

“Just ask, Hermione,” Harry tells her, wanting to get this over with.

“Are you homophobic?”

Despite having just told her to ask, Harry finds himself wishing she’d never spoken.  He sighs, “I don’t mean to be but…yes.”  Hermione seems rather uncomfortable, which is pretty much how Harry feels.  “My Uncle, he –” Harry stops speaking for a moment as he tried to work out how to put it.  “My Aunt Petunia is an avid defender of-of people’s _choices_ in that regard, but my Uncle isn’t.  It’s just not safe to approve of such things in that house and I guess…I guess it rubbed off on me without my realising it.  I don’t _want_ to have a problem with it, and logically I don’t, but still every time it’s bought up it just –” Harry screws his face up.

“Your Slytherin self-preservation is coming through there, Harry,” She teases, trying to loosen the tension mildly.

Harry chuckles slightly, “I suppose so.” 

Hermione nods, seemingly choosing her next words carefully.  “Do you think you’ll get over that with time to adjust?  Because hopefully Professor Lupin can keep his job after this, and even if he doesn’t, with Jamie your cousin, he and Professor Snape are your family.”

Harry squirms a little but nods, “I want to, I _hope_ to.  I just don’t know how to.”

“Well then-then…me and the others will help you.  But we have to make sure this doesn’t get out.  I mean, I’m sorry to think of it this way but if it gets out that The Boy Who Lived is homophobic…”

“I know,” Harry says, “It wouldn’t be good.”

He’s quite glad that the conversation ends there.

 

A few minutes after Dumbledore locks them into the hospital wing, the door unlocks again and Snape slips in.

“You best not be here to disturb my patients, Professor Snape!” Madam Pomfrey says sternly.

“Certainly not, Poppy.  May I have a moment alone with them?”  Snape asks.  Pomfrey seems uncertain for a moment before she nods and retreats back to her office.  Snape looks over Harry and Hermione.  “I assume you two got him out somehow?”

“I’ve no idea what you mean, Professor.  We’ve been here since the Headmaster locked the door,” Harry replies mildly. 

To their great surprise, Snape gives an almost smile as he nods, “Well, then I suppose you ought to know.  Black escaped.  Apparently, so did Buckbeak.  The Dementors are being pulled from Hogwarts, and the Minister will be leaving shortly.  I expect it will be a long time, if ever, before they find either of them.  I made sure the Minister won’t suspect any of us of helping Black.”

“How?” Harry asks before he can help himself.

“Threw a fit about him escaping, didn’t I?” Harry almost feels impressed.  _Almost_.  More than anything, he’s confused why Snape is telling them anything at all, let alone being _glad_ that a man he seems to despise has escaped.

“What about Professor Lupin?” Hermione asks in concern, “He got attacked by a Hippogri-…err, I mean he could have, theoretically, since one is apparently on the loose.”  Harry facepalms.

Instantly, Snape’s face was full of concern and Harry thinks, for the first time, that Snape may just love his husband.  Despite the mild distaste he feels at that thought, he is also glad about it.  “Did he seem all right?”

“He-He was whimpering a bit as he ran off, but he didn’t seem too badly injured.”

“Right, well,” Snape begins, “He’ll turn up in the morning and Pomfrey can see to him.  Physically he’ll be fine.”

“What do you mean physically?” Harry questions.

Snape looks at the ground, he seems genuinely upset about something and, for one bizarre moment, Harry thinks he might be about to cry.  Then he clears his throat, “Understand something Mr Potter, I will protect the lives of those I care for, always.  That includes identifying and removing things shown to be dangerous or potentially life-taking.  No matter what I lose in doing so.”

Harry and Hermione exchange horrified looks as Snape leaves the room.

“What’s he going to do?” Hermione asks, feeling sick inside.

“I don’t know.  But, come morning, I don’t think I’ll be the only one here to have lost my whole family.”

“Can we stop him?” She asks.

Harry looks out of the window at the Forbidden Forest, tears in his eyes.  They both know that this time, there really is nothing they can do.

As they sit in silence, a distant howl pierces the air.

 

The trio are sitting by the lake when they hear the news.  Harry and Hermione, knowing the consequences of time travel can be severe, keep quiet about what happened and don’t even tell Ron though they don’t deny that they rescued Sirius somehow.

“Er – Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin’…thought everyone’d know by now… Professor Lupin’s a Werewolf, see.  An’ he was loose in the grounds las’ night.  He’s packin’ now, o’ course,” Hagrid tells them.

“He’s _packing_?” Harry asks in alarm, “Why?”

“Leavin’, isn’ he?” Hagrid says in surprise, as though Harry should have deduced this.  “Resigned firs’ thing this mornin’.  Says he can’ risk it happenin’ again.”

“He would think something like that,” Harry mutters to himself as he scrambles to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asks.

“I have to see him!”

 

No argument works, Lupin leaves.

Harry finds himself back at the lake later that day.  Hermione and Ron find him there.

“You didn’t tell them,” Hermione says, “That you know the truth, you didn’t tell them.”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry replies with a nod as he stares despondently at the lake.

“Why?”

A crease forms in Harry’s brow as the magnitude of what he gained and then once again lost last night hits him.  “To be honest Hermione, I really don’t know.”

 

Back at the Dursleys, Harry packs his things away and, when changing the sheets on his bed, he finds a letter.  He sits on his bed, opening it in confusion.

_Hank,_

_I haven’t heard from you in a very long time and can only hope you are all right.  Something happened today and all I could think was how much I wanted to tell you about it so I thought, what the hell, do it!  And that’s why I’m writing to you out of the blue._

_This boy I’ve had a crush on for months asked me out.  On our date he kissed me.  My first kiss!  I still can’t believe it._

_I miss you Hank, I wish you were here._

_Lillie_

Harry thinks Aunt Petunia must have put the letter under his mattress for him to find, though he’s not sure why, after all this time, she would.  He stares at the letter as bitter betrayal floods through him once more.  Harry tears it to pieces, as many pieces as he can, and when he’s done he drops the pieces onto the ground and jumps on them in a hysterical effort to break them more.  He stares at the shredded pieces of paper on the floor, rage still coursing through him.

“I’M GLAD YOU’RE _GONE_!  LIAR!  YOU BLOODY LIAR!” Harry can’t take it and screams, he just screams and he keeps screaming.

 

 

 

Harry had been using his ability to actually send letters these holidays _liberally_.  Just coz he can.  Uncle Vernon didn’t dare stop him, for fear of Harry’s ‘murderous God-Father’ showing up displeased at not having heard from him.  Harry has kept in touch with Sirius as best he can.  Though he can’t deal with the idea of having a Dad, he’s decided that until Sirius deigns to tell him the truth, Sirius doesn’t deserve to know that his Son knows the truth and he will continue acting as though Sirius really _is_ just his God-Father.

“Seriously?  Who are you hearing from at five o’clock in the morning?” Ron asks incredulously after Mrs Weasley wakes them up so that they can get ready to go.  Given that Hermione and Ron are both here, Ron’s not sure who else Harry even talks to.

“Jamie.  We’ve been talking all holidays,” Harry replies, “And yesterday I had a letter from Nev as well.”

“What’s with you talking to Neville so much lately anyway?” Ron asks at the same time Hermione asks ‘How’s Professor Lupin doing?’

Harry shrugs, “Deserves better than he’s gotten,” He says to Ron before looking to Hermione, “Apparently he seems a bit down.  Jamie found him standing in the kitchen the other day staring at a drink Snape has a lot?  Said she thinks he was getting it for him when he remembered he doesn’t live there anymore.”

“Poor Professor Lupin,” Ginny says with concern.

“Poor Jamie, not living with a parent is-well-I mean…can’t be easy to suddenly lose a parent.  Well, not _lose_ but to not live with them anymore.  To not live with those you consider family anymore must be…hard.”  Hermione swallows awkwardly and hunches in on herself, looking at her plate.

“Err – Hermione?” Harry asks, she looks up.  “Is everything all right with your parents?”

“Y-Yeah, fine.  Just…” Hermione sighs, “It’s all fine.  It’s not _me_.  My friend is living in a…not so permanent situation and was recently moved again.  Just a week ago actually.  Just feel sorry for him, really.  Weren’t his fault.  It was his foster brother that stole the money but, of course, the foster brother was the real child of the foster parents so he was believed over my friend and now…”  Hermione looks down at her hands, blinking rapidly.

“Well, that much I can relate to,” Harry says.  Hermione looks over, nodding because she knows that, with Dudley, he really can.  “Sucks.”  Hermione chuckles, nodding, before a tense silence falls over the room.

Then it’s time to go and, after Mrs Weasley accios about fifty ton-tongue toffees from the twins, the group sets off.

 

While they climb up the hill, Harry tugs on George’s arm.

“Wh-”

Harry puts a hand to his lips to signal George to be quiet.  He then gestures for both twins to drop back from the group a little with him.  “Grabbed this as they were flying through the air,” Harry says as he presses a Ton-Tongue Toffee into Fred’s hand.  The two twins look at it with unabashed glee before they both simultaneously pull Harry into a hug.

“Really are The Saviour, aren’t you, Harry?”

Harry smirks, “I doubt Mrs Weasley would agree, so don’t go waving that around.”

“Amos!” Arthur calls as they reach the portkey.  “This is Amos Diggory, everyone.  Works for the Department For the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”  Harry feels an instant dislike for the man, given his experiences with that Department include, and are in fact limited to, Buckbeak’s attempted execution, and their mistreatment of poor Professor Lupin.  “And I believe you know his son, Cedric?”

Now, Harry’s seen Cedric around school, even played Quidditch against him as their respective House’s seekers, and he’s never had any sort of strange reaction to the boy before.  But he’s also never truly paid attention or even seen him up close properly.  So perhaps that’s why, when Cedric says hi, Harry suddenly feels his hands go clammy and his mouth go dry.

“H-i,” Harry croaks back, wincing when everyone looks at him funny.  Ron hits his back several times and Harry goes with it, coughing a little before clearing his throat.  “Thanks, Ron,” He says, glad that his voice comes out normally.

“All right there, Harry?” Cedric asks.

“Y-Yeah, fine,” Harry replies, hoping the others can’t see the flush filling his cheeks from embarrassment.

 

“How is Cockamamie?” Fred asks inquisitively as they eat their lunch at the Camp ground.  George snickers which makes his brother elbow him in the stomach.

“Good.  Apparently Little Benni is being overly clingy to her and Professor Lupin but, I think she’s sort of happy about it, really,” Harry replies.

“Little Benni?” Ginny asks in confusion.

“Jamie’s little brother.  His name’s actually Benoit but they just call him that and I keep reading it so that’s just how it is in my mind now,” He explains.  Harry hears a throat cleared behind him and looks up to see Percy give him a very pointed, and not very happy, look.  Harry puts his letter down, picks his fork up, and eats some of the food on his plate, cheeks flushed in embarrassment and a bit of shame.

 

“Harry,” Ron begins when the two are in the tent on their own after being sent to fetch something.

“Yeah?”

Ron hesitates long enough that Harry looks over to his best mate.  “Why does Percy hover over you when we’re eating?  He did it at school as well.”

Harry looks down, flushing again.  “I…I-”

“Do you have trouble eating like he does?” Ron asks bluntly.  Harry looks at him in shock, Ron snorts, “What?  Thought I wouldn’t have noticed my own brother periodically starving himself?” Harry frowns, so does Ron.  “I’ve noticed you doing it too, but I didn’t say anything because it seemed different than with him.”

“I…do have problems wi-with eating.”  Harry had intended to say more, but his throat closes up at that.

There’s silence for a moment before Ron speaks again, “What can I do to help?”

Harry’s head snaps up in surprise, but he finds nothing on Ron’s face beside earnestness.  “I-I don’t know…” He takes a few deep breaths.  “I don’t even know why I’m like this.”

“Well, what are you thinking when you can’t eat?”

“That I don’t deserve to,” Harry replies in a whisper.

Ron scoffs, “Well that’s just ridiculous isn’t it?  Bloody hell Harry.  How many times have you saved people’s lives?” Harry cringes as he looks away.  “Don’t deserve to eat, honestly.  Harry look at me,” Ron says strongly.  Harry looks up hesitantly, expecting judgement.  Instead he sees a strange sort of righteousness in Ron’s eyes, “Harry if anyone in this world deserves food, it’s you.  If it weren’t for you, a lot of us wouldn’t be here.”

“James and Lily Potter would be.”

Ron’s face softens in surprise, then understanding falls over his face.  “It’s not your fault they are dead.”

“They died trying to protect me.”

“Any parent would have!”

“Except they weren’t my parents, were they?” Harry snaps.  Ron swallows harshly, nodding.  Harry hasn’t brought that up since the day Lupin left Hogwarts.  “Uncle James’ sister had a son.  That was their only sin.  Someone who wasn’t even them had a son and because I was born, they are dead.”

“Because you were born, Voldemort is dead,” Ron challenges, not giving in to his fear of the name for once to ensure his words really got through to his friend.

“Yes but I didn’t _do_ anything!” Harry tells him, “I didn’t defeat him, not really.  I was a baby, Ron.”

“You make a good point,” Ron says, “You were a baby.  You cannot be held accountable for things that the people around you did when you were a baby.  The good and the bad.” Harry looks at his hands.  “Besides, I wasn’t talking about then.”  Harry looks at him in confusion, Ron returns that look with one that suggests he thinks Harry is particularly dense.  “I meant three years ago when you faced off against Quirrell.  And when you protected _Malfoy_ in the Forbidden Forest.  I don’t give a rat’s arse about what happened when you were a baby, Mate.  When I say you saved lives, when I say you are a great man who does great things, what I mean is that in the last few years that I have known you, you have always done what you can to help other people.  For Merlin’s sake, you told _Professor McGonagall_ off when she was reaming Neville unnecessarily.  There’s no one out there with your balls, Mate.  The very least that you deserve, is to have food.”

Harry looks at his hands again for a moment before a small smile comes across his face and he looks back up.  “Thanks, Ron.”

Ron nods, “Let me know if I can help.”

Harry nods back, “I will.”

 

Despite the initial euphoria at Ireland winning the match, it’s fair to say that overall the night out did not go according to plan.

Mrs Weasleys reaction to the twins possible deaths makes Harry think once more of Sirius and what could possibly be keeping him from replying to his letter.

Still, despite the small hiccup of a Death Eater attack and the possibility of Voldemort doing… _something_ , Harry’s final two weeks of holidays are pleasant ones.

 

The train ride to Hogwarts involves the usual, though admittedly Harry’s train rides are rarely ‘usual’ so perhaps that is not the correct turn of phrase.  Harry’s return to Hogwarts is far calmer and easier than any previous year had been, with only one Malfoy encounter, many friends talking about Quidditch, and no near death experiences at all.

The carriage ride in the rain is less than pleasant, and to then have water balloons dropped on them by the resident poltergeist, Peeves, is not quite ideal.

“PEEVES!” McGonagall shouts as she comes into the Entrance Hall.  “Peeves, come down here at ONCE!”  She slips on the water and grabs Hermione’s throat in an attempt to regain her balance before she falls.  “Ouch – sorry, Miss Granger –”

“That’s all right, Professor,” Hermione replies while rubbing at her throat.

“Peeves, get down here NOW!” McGonagall barks at him.

“Not doing nothing!” Peeves cackles while continuing to throw water balloons at students.  “Already wet, aren’t they?  Little squirts!  Wheeeeeeeeee!”

Ron rolls his eyes and looks around for a moment.  Then he grins, “Oi, Seamus.  Mind if I use that gum?” Seamus stops chewing long enough to look confused.  Ron flicks his eyes up to Peeves and back to Seamus who instantly understand and grins.  He grabs the chewing gum out of his hand and holds it out.  Ron pulls his wand out, “ _Waddiwasi_!” He casts and the gum flies from Seamus’ hand straight into Peeves’ nostril.  The Poltergeist squawks and flees quickly.

“ _Mr_ Wealsey!” McGonagall thunders.

Ron looks at her innocently, “What?  Professor Lupin taught us how to do it in Defence Against The Dark Arts last year.  Said it was a useful little spell.”  McGonagall’s face twitches before she simple stalks off, muttering dire things under her breath.

“That was brilliant!” Seamus cackles, the others laugh, even Hermione joins in as they head into the Great Hall.

“Better tell Jamie about _that_ ,” Ron tells Harry with a grin as he nods at something behind him. 

Harry spins and sees his cousin talking with Lee Jordan.  “Jamie!” Harry calls.  Jamie looks up, face splitting into a grin when she sees him.  She waves, but just as she moves to walk over, everyone begins taking their seats.  Harry waves her off, she nods, deciding to talk to him later.

 

The news of the Triwizard tournament is unexpected of course, but not nearly so much as the champions chosen.  Because, quite against his will, Harry was entered into the Triwizard Tournament.


	6. Run To, Run From, Run From You

**_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter_ **

****

In Harry’s experience, there are three kinds of people.  People you run to, people you run from, and people who will run from _you_.  Somehow, walking down the school hallways with everyone against him, Harry finds the strength within himself to fuck those three kinds of people.  He will not run away, nor go grovelling back to, and clearly no one is going to run from him.  No, instead, he’s just going to make them wish they had stayed far away from him.

So, that night, in the dead and dark silence, he sits up in his bed and climbs out.  He hadn’t been sure how he would pull this off without getting caught, and then he remembered.  The Marauders’ Map.  Professor Lupin had returned it to him at the end of last year.

He enters the common room, looking around for inspiration.  In the end, he goes with a classic jelly leg jinx on all the furniture just waiting for a little extra weight to activate.  He grabs his cloak and sneaks down to the Great Hall before performing the same charm on Gryffindor Table and, just for the sake of it, Slytherin as well.  He rushes to the Owlery and writes out a quick letter to Jamie warning her not to sit on the bench and asking for the spell that makes frogs multiply when they jump.  He also sends a letter to Percy, just to check in while he’s here.

Then he returns to his dorm, and sleeps with a smile on his face.

 

He wakes up to a squeal.

“Wh-wha-?” He hears as Ron wakes up.  Seeing as everyone knows he’s a light sleeper and particularly well-known amongst the Gryffindors for reacting very quickly to screams of any kind (Ginny’s just as well-known for night terrors since her kidnapping in her first year and often wakes everyone up.  There was also a student in George and Fred’s year that had frequent nightmares that Harry always reacted to as well), he’s out of bed and down to the common room in a flash to keep up appearances.

“What’s going on, is everything all right?” Harry asks, seeing unsurprised and mildly exasperated looks at his near instantaneous appearance.

“Really just can’t help yourself, can you?” A tired and grumpy voice sounds from behind him.  Harry looks back and sees Ron coming down the stairs.

“The chair just gave out beneath me!” A first year squealed, running over and hugging Harry, he being the only one to actually come to the child’s aid. 

Harry instantly feels guilty.  This kid isn’t the one he wanted to get back at.  He kneels down before him, “Dennis, right?  You’re Colin’s brother?” Harry asks, recognising him.  Dennis nods.  “Well, Dennis, it looks like you’ve fallen victim to someone’s prank.  But it’s all okay, the chair can be put right and you aren’t hurt, are you?”  Dennis shakes his head and Harry breathes and internal sigh of relief.  “Good.  So everything’s okay.”

“Dennis!” Harry and Dennis look over to see Colin rushing to them.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I am now.  Thanks Harry,” Dennis says.  Harry smiles and nods.

“Unbelievable,” Ron mutters as he walks out the door to breakfast.

Though he’d been debating it, Harry decides to leave the jinxes on everything.

 

During transfiguration that day, Seamus makes a snide comment about Harry.  Suddenly, the frog he’d borrowed to do todays lesson jumped and replicated itself.  Soon after the entire class was flooded with frogs and McGonagall was beside herself.

“HOW MANY TIMES!  HOW MANY BLOODY TIMES?!  I SHOULD HAVE RETIRED!”  She swears everyone in the class to secrecy on pain of detention every Thursday until they graduate.  Lest anyone else get ideas.

Harry feels like kicking himself.  Every time he tries to get revenge, he upsets someone he didn’t want far more than those who he did.

He tries charming the books in the common room to fly anytime anyone touched them, but all that did was send Hermione off her tree about people who would dare deface knowledge.  In hindsight, going for books probably wasn’t the best plan for getting back at Ron.

This thought is the turning point though, because Harry realises he doesn’t care what the rest of the school thinks, the only ones he wants to punish is the friends he had that turned on him.

That night, Harry charms Ron and Seamus’ beds to float and pushes them out of the common room before allowing them to go wherever they please.

Neither boy is at breakfast that morning.

“Harry, have you seen Ron anywhere?” Hermione asks him.

“Not since last night.  Could be anywhere by now.”  He _just_ manages to hold back the snicker at his words.  Hermione frowns in confusion and mild suspicion but says nothing more.

Seamus and Ron are both in first lesson, looking decidedly pissed off.  But Harry doesn’t think they’ve got any clue who did it.

 

A week after, Harry’s minding his own business at dinner when Seamus starts being a prat, Ron joining in on it.  Angry, Harry grabs his wand from his pocket and points it under the table and mutters under his breath so that no one will hear him.

When everyone moves to head back to bed, Seamus faceplants onto the floor rather gloriously.

“Seam?” Dean asks in alarm.  Seamus yells in outrage as he tries to get his legs out from the bench.  He manages to get them over before yelling in rage again at finding the laces from his shoes tied to each other.

Harry laughs along with everyone else until he sees Hermione looking at him.  She has her arms crossed in disapproval and a frown on her face.  He gives her an innocent look and shrugs.

Ron wakes up in the morning with hair that changes between pastel colours every time he sneezes.  A sneezing charm quietly cast on him in Herbology when Harry decides he isn’t sneezing enough.

“Poor dear, must be allergic to something in here,” Professor Sprout says after sending Ron off to Madam Pomfrey to get sorted.

 

“It won’t last forever, you know,” A voice says behind Harry. 

Harry turns away from the trophy case where he’d been looking at James Potter’s trophy.  Even knowing the man isn’t his Father, he still feels closer to his family by being here than he does writing to Sirius.  Harry sees Ginny at the door to the trophy room and sighs.  “I spent my life like this Gin, I’m pretty used to it.”

“And I’m pretty used to my night terrors, that doesn’t make them easier to deal with.”

Harry’s not sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t.

 

Then an odd thing happens as Harry walks into the Great Hall.

“Oi, Potter!” Malfoy calls as he enters the Hall, the boy in question still walking sullenly towards the Gryffindor table.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asks despondently.  Since Ginny’s conversation with him, he’s realised that even the joy he’d been getting from pranking the others is all…hollow.  What’s a good laugh without his best mate laughing too?

“Well this all just figures doesn’t it?  Can’t help but be in the spotlight,” Malfoy tells him.  Harry rolls his eyes.  “Really, could you _be_ more of a Gryffindor?  Saving the school a few times doesn’t get you enough attention, does it?  No, you’ve got to be the hero again, in a competition you’re too young to enter.  Honestly, Gryffindor recklessness at its finest, never thinking things through, just rushing in to save the day,” Malfoy says cruelly.  Harry’s shoulders droop as though physically weighed down by yet more hateful words being thrown at him as they have been constantly since his name was called out. 

Then, to Harry’s great surprise, Ron steps up beside him.  “Shut your mouth Malfoy!” He all but spits, “Coz you’re right, he _has_ saved all of us, twice.  You should be bloody grateful, you’d be dead if it weren’t for him, just like we all would be.”  Draco sneers and storms off to his table.  Ron turns to Harry, looking ashamed.  Harry just smiles at him and nods.

As the two sit at the table, Gryffindor house clapping their backs and such, Harry feels a the weight lifting off of him a little and finally letting him breathe.

 

But not everything gets better despite the house rallying behind him after the first task.  Harry had tried to help Cedric with the first task, and Cedric had given Harry a tip for the second.  Which is all well and good, except Harry keeps making a babbling fool of himself every time the older boy speaks to him.  Thinking it through, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on, but Harry can’t admit it.  He knows he told Hermione that he’d get over his issues with _it_ but he's not there yet and how can he possibly think of another man like-like… _that_ when he can’t even say the bloody word?!  But is that why he’s so afraid?  Has he been afraid that Uncle Vernon will find out that he’s…like _that_?  The idea makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.

Harry’s frustration with himself is taken out on the rest of the house when they wake up to find the common room floor covered in five inches of port wine jelly.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Hermione huffs, turning and heading back to the dorm.

“FRED!  GEORGE!” Ron shouts.  The two descend from their dorm room only to stop, like the others, when they see the floor.  “WHAT IS WITH YOU TWO THIS YEAR?  IT’S BEEN WORSE THAN EVER BEFORE!”

“It’s not been us, how many times do we have to tell you?” Fred asks, standing in front of George slightly.  Harry sees the action, and George’s nervous face, and realises something extraordinary as every interaction he’s ever had with the twins floods through his mind.  George is… _shy_.  He never speaks without Fred but Fred will speak without George.  When in trouble, it’s Fred that stands in front.  The two move around each other a lot until no one can keep track of which is which, but Harry would bet his firebolt that, if George is feeling anxious at the time from confrontation or crowds or a lot of noise, it’s only Fred that speaks.

“JUST. FIX. IT!”

Fred rolls his eyes, vanishing the jelly.

“THANK YOU!”

Harry snickers under his breath though he does feel bad for stressing George out.

 

Harry blinks, almost shell-shocked, as he digests the news of the Yule Ball.

After watching Fred ask Angelina out, Harry sighs at himself.  “Why’ve we got to do this anyway?  Why can’t we just go with…” Harry trails off as the answer presents himself in his mind, then he grins.

“What?” Ron asks.

“Hey!  Ginny!” Harry calls out, Ginny looks over.  “Feel like being one of the only people from your year allowed to go to the ball?”

“Heck yeah,” She replies.

“Great, now we just need to sort you out, Ron.”

“Wha-I-huh?” Ron asks, not comprehending what just happened here.

“Friends, Ron,” Hermione tells him.  “Harry’s idea was to simply take a friend.”

“That’s brilliant!  A bit sad, but brilliant,” Ron says, “Hey ‘Mione…you’re a girl.”

“Astute observation, Ronald.”

“Want to go with me?” Ron asks, “As a friend?”

Hermione scowls, “I already have a date, thank you very much.” 

Ron’s eyes widen in surprise, “Wha-who?!”

“None of your business.”  Hermione stalks off.

“Harry, Mate, murder me.”

“Hey Nev, still need a date to the ball?” Harry calls, Neville nods.  “Brilliant, then I have another idea.”

 

The night of the Yule Ball, Harry and Ginny attend, Ron and Padma Patil go together, and Neville takes Padma’s twin, Parvati.

Harry’s breath catches slightly as he sees Cho, then again when he sees Cedric.  Cedric meets his eyes and smiles at him.  Harry smiles back.  For once, it’s not awkward either, and Cedric’s eyes light up.

“So…Cedric, huh?” Harry blanches, look to Ginny in alarm.  “Oh come on, it’s _so_ obvious.” Then Ginny looks at something behind Harry and her eyes widen.  “Wow.”

Harry turns around to see Hermione in periwinkle blue dress robes, his jaw drops. 

Hermione smiles as she walks over to them.  “Ginny, hi.  Thanks again for doing my hair.”

“Of course, your dress is… _wow_ ,” Ginny exclaims again. 

Hemione flushes, “Thanks.”

“Hermione?” 

Hermione turns to see a girl Harry’s seen around school but doesn’t know the name of.  “Luna, hi,” She replies, cheeks flushing even more as Luna holds an arm out to Hermione who links her arm with Luna’s.  “Oh um, Luna, this is Harry and, of course you know Ginny.  Harry, this is Luna…my date.”

Harry blinks in confusion before understanding slowly dawns on him.  “ _Oh_.”  Suddenly, Hermione reticence about her date makes sense.  She wasn’t worried that he and Ron would poke fun at her, she was scared about how _Harry_ would react.  Hermione fidgets nervously for a moment before Harry turns to Luna, “Nice to meet you, Luna.  I trust you’ll take good care of Hermione tonight.”

Luna smiles, seeming half off in space, but focuses properly on Harry as she nods, “Of course.”  Her voice is airy and high, but Harry believes she’s taking her words seriously so he nods.

Hermione seems to melt in relief as she and Luna head into the ball.

“Well…that was unexpected,” Harry says, still looking a little dazed.

“But not a problem, right?” Ginny asks him.

Harry hesitates a moment before he tentatively shakes his head, “Of course not.  So long as she’s happy.”  He hopes that Ginny can’t hear that it’s himself he’s trying to convince.

 

“Cedric,” Cho begins quietly as the two dance together, “Why did you ask me to this?”

Cedric looks to her in confusion, “Because I like you, Cho.  You’re nice and funny and clever.”

“But I’m not who you wanted to be here with,” She tells him, sending a pointed look to Harry and Ginny when he feigns confusion.

“Ginny Weasley?”

“No you idiot!” Cho snaps, Cedric looks sheepish.  “Don’t play dumb with me Ced.  I like you, and I’m happy to be here with you if you want me to be, but if all I am is a beard for you then tell me.”

Cedric looks down, “You aren’t a beard, Cho.  You’re my friend.”

Cho nods, “And nothing more.”  Cedric avoids her gaze.  She nods again, letting go of him and walking off hurriedly.

“Cho!  Cho wait!” Cedric calls, following after her and ignoring the looks he’s getting.

Harry watches them run off, he and Ginny share a look before following after them.

When they catch up, Ginny grabs Cedric’s arm.  “Let me,” She requests, he hesitates before nodding.  Ginny goes after Cho while Harry stays with Cedric.

“What happened?” Harry asks.  Cedric looks at him and flushes before looking away.  “I’m sorry,” Harry says with a wince, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Cho’s upset because she’s not the person I wanted to come here with the most.  I only asked her because I was too much of a coward to ask the person I really wanted.”

Harry looks at him in bewilderment, “Why the hell not?  You are one of the most attractive guys at this school, you’ve an amazing personality, an intelligence to rival the Ravenclaws, and you can actually dance well,” Harry lists off unthinkingly, then he flushes and tries to backtrack, “Or uh, that-that’s what I’ve heard from, you know, others…”  Harry internally curses as he visibly cringes.

“Because the one I wanted to bring is one of the most sought after people at Hogwarts.  Everyone of the opposite gender wanted to go with them and I just…I don’t exactly…” Cedric trails off.  Then he looks to the side quickly, “Iwantedtogowithyou.”

Harry blinks, an expert at catching quickly said things after dealing with Hermione when she learns something new that she finds particularly exciting.  He stares for a minute, seeing Cedric shifting awkwardly under his gaze.  And in that moment an interesting though occurs to Harry.  _Uncle Vernon isn’t here._   Impulsively, as Gryffindors tend to be even if, to this day, Harry internally considers himself somewhat of a Slytherin because of his sorting, Harry leans up and kisses Cedric.  Cedric freezes for a moment before his hand comes up to cup Harry’s head gently and kiss him back.

Cedric pulls away, “Harry we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Harry asks.

“The Tournament.  We’d be accused of cheating.  Besides, my Dad doesn’t know…” Cedric trails off and Harry nods.

“I suppose we’ll just have to be subtle, then.” 

Cedric looks at him in amazement, “You’d do that?  I-I don’t want to make you be in some secret relationship with me…”

“You aren’t making me do anything,” Harry says strongly, “I want to do this.  And besides…I don’t know that I want everyone to know that I’m –” Harry cuts himself off, “in a relationship,” He says instead, no need for Cedric to find out about Harry’s internal self-hatred regarding… _this_.  “It would be nice to have some privacy in my life for once.”

Cedric smiles and kisses Harry again.

 

Cedric, with prompting from Harry, attempts to apologise to Cho two days later but she evades him.

Despite that tension and the anxiety of trying to hide it and worry about everyone discovering what Harry internally thinks of as his perversion, Harry’s on cloud nine.  Cedric _freaks_ after the second task when Harry saved Fleur’s sister.  Apparently watching an empty lake and waiting for his boyfriend, and yes, Cedric used that word which made Harry grin, for once not feeing a hint of disgust with himself, was very nerve wracking.

Harry and Cedric go to Hogsmeade together, and this is where the true trouble starts.

The two are set to meet in ten minutes.  Cedric rushes to the town and into a shop that sells flowers.  He’s looking for the perfect rose when his friends appear behind him.

“Cedric, what are you doing?” One of them asks and Cedric flounders, unable to think of a response.

“Oh they’re my favourite!” A voice comes from behind them, they all turn and see Cho.  She sighs, “All right, I forgive you,” She says, walking over and leaning up to appear to kiss his cheek.  “Just go with it,” She whispers.

He buys the flower and gives it to her, taking her hand as they walk out of the shop, Cedric’s friends wolf-whistling behind them.  The two go to where Cedric is meeting Harry.

“Erm…?” Harry says in confusion.  The two explain everything that happened and Harry sighs before hugging Cho.  “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well.  You two owe me, big time,” She replies, “But, what are friends for?”

From then on, the school believed Cho to be Cedric’s girlfriend.  They expertly slowly introduced the idea of Harry being their friend until it was old hat to see the three together, Ginny often joining them which causes rumours of Harry and Ginny dating.  He sort of likes that, feeling himself grow more comfortable in his relationship and in his interest with the same gender when he’s not worried that people will put two and two together.  Harry makes sure to not neglect Ron or Hermione by constantly ditching them to see his boyfriend, but he spends a great deal of time with Ginny, Cho and Cedric now too.  So much so that Cho really does become a close friend of his and is easily Cedric’s best friend.  A good friend to Ginny too.

“I want to tell Ron and Hermione,” Harry says one day when the four are hanging out in a tree outside the castle.

Cedric bites his lip as he looks at the ground before he looks up and nods, “I’m going to tell my Dad, after the tournament.  If he knows before then he’ll just go on about this splitting my focus.  You know what he’s like about this whole thing,” Cedric replies, the others nod because they’ve heard.  “C-Can you wait until then?” He asks.

Harry nods, “Of course.  It’s only two weeks anyway.”

 

Nerves about the final task and hiding his relationship from his friends and the idea of admitting everything after the tournament keep Harry on edge.  He decides that the best way to deal with that is with another prank.

At 6am the following morning, everyone in the boys’ dormitories in Gryffindor is woken by water dropping from above them and soaking their entire bed.  Harry’s does as well, but it’s fun when you know it’s coming.

“ARRGHH!”  Ron calls, immediately going out and reaming his twin brothers who deny any part in it.

 

It’s later that day as Ron and Harry walk across the common room that Ron suddenly remembers something.  Many people had screamed or yelled when woken up that morning, but Harry didn’t go running or react at all.

“IT WAS YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Ron yells, turning to Harry who blinks in shock at the sudden shout.

“What was…?” Harry asks in genuine confusion, the rest of the common room now watching them.

“The water, the jelly, our floating beds, my _hair_ , the frogs, the books, ALL OF IT!” Ron yells, really shouting the last bit.

“What are you talking about, Ron?” Seamus asks, “Of course it wasn’t Harry.  He’s never pranked anyone in his life.”

“Can’t help but notice he’s not denying it, though,” Dean throws in.  Everyone turns to Harry again who keeps a straight face for 0.5 seconds before he nearly busts a lung laughing.

“IT _WAS_ YOU!?”

Harry can’t speak but, from his position crouched on the ground because he’d doubled over in laughter, he vaguely makes a nodding motion.

“Unbelievable,” Ron says, “UNBELIEVABLE!  I bloody _knew_ something was going on with you.  I told you Hermione, I told you!”

Hermione looks over from the corner of the room where she is reading a book.  “I already knew, Ronald.  I’ve known since he tied Seamus’ shoes together.”

“YOU SHIT HEAD!” Seamus shouts at him.  Harry laughs harder.

“We did sort of deserve it,” Lavender quietly admits.  The others all look at each other and then back to Harry who has stopped laughing.  He avoids all their gazes.

Seamus holds out a hand to him.  Harry takes it and uses his help to stand up.  “Never did say…I’m sorry, Harry.”

“We all are,” Parvati adds, everyone else nodding.

Harry smiles awkwardly, “Don’t worry about it.”

 

It’s only after Ron saw that his friend had been truly hurt by his behaviour earlier in the year that he realises Harry’s barely eating anything at meals again and that he’s lost weight.

“You need your strength for the final task, Harry,” Ron tells him gently as he hands Harry a plate of food he’d gotten off of Dobby.  The two are sitting in Harry’s bed after the others have gone to sleep.  Harry’s hands shake slightly as he takes the plate.  Ron stays with him as he eats, not judging him despite the few tears that drop from his eyes.  “I think you should tell Cedric, Mate.  He might be able to help you more than I can.”

“W-What?”

“I’m not blind.  ‘Mione and I have known for ages.  Figured you’d tell us when you were ready,” He explains.  He knows about Harry’s homophobia, he and Hermione have tried to gently open Harry up to the idea a bit more over the last year, but they hadn’t had much luck until Hermione started seeing Luna.  Though that ended within a few weeks, Harry hasn’t displayed any discomfort when Ron and Hermione talk about attractive girls in the school.  He doesn’t join the conversations at all, sort of more ignored that it was happening, but he hasn’t walked away from them either.

Harry sighs, “We were planning on telling you after the tournament ended when Cedric tells his Dad.  Didn’t want to risk it getting back to him before Cedric’s told him.”

“It’s all good, Mate.  Just think about it, yeah?”

He nods, “I’ll think about it.”

 

Harry decides against telling Cedric about his eating problems, figuring that with the final task in a few days, he’s got enough on his mind.  But maybe he’ll tell him after the tournament.

 

“One – Two – Three –” Harry says and both He and Cedric grab the cup.

Suddenly they’re in a cemetery, and a lot of trouble.

 

“Kill the spare,” Voldemort orders.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Harry ignores the pain from his scar as he opens his eyes to find Cedric on the ground, spread-eagled.

Dead.

“No,” Harry whispers.  “Please, no.”

While Voldemort goes through and speaks to each of his Death Eaters, Harry stares at Cedric’s body.   _My boyfriend, the one hardly anyone even knew I had…the one I was ashamed of,_ he thinks to himself, _No one will ever know what happened to us.  At least I’ll die here.  I can’t think of any greater torment than to survive this and live with the memory of…_ Harry shuts his eyes, trying to fight off the grief.  _I killed him.  This is my fault.  He’s only dead because Voldemort was trying to get me._   He shakes his head, trying to hold in the sob building within him.  It doesn’t work though, and when he quietly lets out a half sob, Voldemort turns to him.

“Such despair, Harry.  Not afraid, are you?”

Harry chuckles, despite the tears now freely falling down his face and the continued light sobbing.  “Of you?  Please.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrow in anger before he watches Harry’s gaze drift helplessly back to Cedric, and understanding softens The Dark Lord’s face.  “I see you cared for this boy, did you?”  Harry’s face screws up in pain as another sob wrenches itself free.  “Oh,” Voldemort says, looking from Harry’s face to the corpse and back again, “Oh,” He repeats, “More than that.  You loved him, did you not?” Wormtail looks at Harry with pain and regret, but Harry doesn’t see it, instead looking on in anguish at his boyfriend’s body.  He doesn’t feel any revulsion, there was never anything wrong with that love and now he’ll never get a chance to actually say it to Cedric.  He’d been a coward and it’s far too late to fix it.  “It hurts, to lose the one you love, doesn’t it?”  Harry sobs freely now.  Voldemort nods in pity, “Harry Potter…we both know I shall kill you tonight.  And it will be a mercy, to save you from this pain.  To know that you are the reason your loved one died…” Voldemort tuts and sighs.  “However, I do have one question to ask you first.”  Harry looks to him in confusion, blinking through his tears.  “How did you survive my curse?”

“Y-Y-Your what?” Harry asks dumbly.

“My _curse_ ,” Voldemort replies impatiently.  “I’ve heard the theories, and the rumours, and the lies.  I even know what Dumbledore claims happened.  But you know the truth, don’t you?  You _know_ that my spell _did_ hit you that night.”  Death Eaters gasp around them as Harry’s eyes widen.  “You were hit with the killing curse…how did you survive?  It certainly wasn’t your mother’s intervention.  Surely you know the truth of _that_ at least?”  Harry stares in horror.  “See, I speak from experience when I say that the things that happen when we are young stay with us far more than people realise.  Have you never had a dream of that night?  Fractured memories?  Gut feelings borne from knowledge or fear you do not have?  It’s a very simple question Harry.  Tell me how you survived and I will do you a kindness and end your pain swiftly.” 

Harry looks to Cedric again, wincing as he looks away.  He looks back to Voldemort again, wishing he could get him to just _do_ it already.  “I don’t know,” He whispers.

“But you know the truth of dear Lily Potter, do you not?”  Harry shuts his eyes, Voldemort nods.  “She didn’t save you, did she?”  Harry doesn’t respond.  “Come now, Harry.  Tell me.  Do you know what she did when I fired that spell?”

Harry sobs again, hesitating a moment longer before, “…she jumped out of the way.”

“That’s not true!” Wormtail protests.  Everyone looks to him in shock.  Peter’s eyes widen in apparent disbelief of himself.  “I’m sorry, my Lord.  Only, if she jumped out of the way then…then why is she dead?”

“Wavering loyalty though you show, it is indeed a good question.  That curse I fired was not at Harry.  It was at Lily.  She jumped out of the way and it hit dear, sweet, infant Harrison.”

For a moment, all Harry can hear is his name being screamed in dual voices as it used to in his dreams.  “You weren’t trying to kill me?” Harry asks uncomprehendingly.

“No Harry.  The only reason your life is in danger is because of Lily Potter’s cowardice.  Something to _say_ , Wormtail?” Voldemort asks, turning back to the man in question.  Harry continues looking to the ground in thought even as he listens to the conversation, wondering if he can even trust or believe any of this.

“N-No, My Lord.  Forgive me, My Lord.”

“My Lord,” A voice comes from the circle.

“Yes, Patrick?” Voldemort asks.

“I-If the spell did hit him, then how did the boy survive?”

“And that is the beautiful and _frustrating_ thing.  I do not know.”  Voldemort turns an expectant look to the still distraught Harry.

“I don’t know,” Harry sobs, “I swear to God, if I did, I would tell you.  Please…” Harry looks to Cedric’s body again.  He remembers everybody he’s ever lost, ever trusted, ever been betrayed by, ever been abused by, ever cared for, ever gotten killed.  He thinks of Quirrell, whom he killed with his own two hands.  He thinks of the basilisk, slain by the sword he wielded.  He thinks of Lockhart, memoryless because of Harry’s insistence he came along.  He thinks of Ginny, traumatised by the man before him.  A man Harry is slowly beginning to realise is connected to him in ways greater than an enemy/foe dynamic.  He thinks of Cedric, whose only sin was loving the wrong person, a cursed person. “Please,” He repeats, “Kill me.”

Voldemort grins, “Sometimes the only way to find out how something works, is to test it.”  With that he steps away a few feet and raises his wand at Harry who maintains void eye contact with Cedric.  “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” 

Harry feels the spell hit him, burning through his veins.  He feels the pain, then sudden cold washes over him and for a moment he thinks it worked, he thinks he is dead.

Then he opens his eyes. 

A wave of power tears through him and he feels invigorated.  Harry looks up to his tormentor and grins, “Is that all you got?” He asks, laughing manically.  Everyone around blinks, rather dumbfounded.

“Harry?” Peter asks, and this time Voldemort says nothing of his out of turn speech.

“Wormtail.  Enjoying the show?” Harry asks.  Peter’s eyes widen.  “No?  Perhaps I should give you a better one.  Let’s see, who looks good…?” Harry grins as his eyes settle on a random Death Eater.  “One less Death Eater in the world and all that.”  Then, Harry’s eyes glow green.  A faint green glow is seen on the edge of the Death Eater’s mask indicating that his eyes did as well.  Then he drops to the ground.

“…how did you do that?” Voldemort asks, staring at his fallen follower.  Then he turns back to Harry, rage etched onto his face, “HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”

The bravado falls away and Harry looks terrified, “I-I don’t know.  I didn’t mean to!” Harry shakes his head rapidly, tears falling further.  “Why couldn’t it have just worked?” He asks quietly, wishing beyond hope that the killing curse might still work and is just taking a while.

“ _Crucio_!”  Harry screams in pain.  He doesn’t know how long this goes on for.  “Perhaps it is best I failed when you were a baby.  Now, it will be a test of skill.  Wormtail, untie him and give him his wand.”

Peter blinked in confusion, “My Lord?”  Voldemort looks on expectantly.  “My Lord, all due respect, you have just seen that your usual method of… _disposal_ , will not-”

“There is more than one method with which to kill him.  Or is there another reason for your hesitance?  Old loyalty, perhaps?  Like the kind you showed earlier when defending Lily Potter?” Voldemort challenges. 

Harry watches, confused as a dark look comes over Peter’s face before he shakes his head.  “Of course not, my Master.”

“Then _untie him_ , and _give him_ his _wand_.”

“Yes, my Master.”

“My Lord,” Lucius begins.

“ _What_?” Voldemort snaps, clearly sick of interruptions.

Malfoy flinches slightly, “I…I do not think that, in his current state, Potter has any reason to fight back.  He has shown his wish to die here.”

Voldemort turns to Harry, ruminating.  “You are quite right, Lucius.  But what to do to strengthen the convictions of a broken enemy.”

Harry, on his knees on the ground where he fell, wand laying in front of him, takes a deep breath.  To allow himself death while unable to prevent it is one thing, but to be free and simply give up?  Harry can’t do it.  Once again he remembers the house he was supposed to be put in, remembers that in his heart he’s a Slytherin.  And a Slytherin never fails, never admits defeat, and never allows himself to be conquered by their foe.  _I’m sorry I couldn’t be better for you, Cedric.  It should have been me that died, not you._   And so Harry thinks, forming a plan in his mind.

“ _Crucio_!”  Harry screams as pain courses through him once more.  “Fight back!” Voldemort demands. 

Harry stays still for a moment before looking at Cedric once more.  _He’d want me to fight._   Harry looks to Voldemort again.  “M-My Lord, please,” Harry whimpers, moving to prostrate himself on the ground.  His hand falls right on top of his wand, though no one else sees that.

“This is pointless, isn’t it?” Voldemort asks, looking to Lucius. 

The moment he turns his head, Harry raises his wand. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”  He jumps up, running behind a headstone as Voldemort curses his name. 

“COME AND FACE ME, LIKE A MAN…STRAIGHT BACKED AND PROUD, THE WAY JAMES POTTER DIED…” Voldemort calls to him.

In a moment of…stress induced insanity, Harry calls back the first thing that pops into his head.  “THAT’S SEXIST!” He shouts.

“Is he joking?” Voldemort asks Lucius who sighs.

“He does this, My Lord, runs his mouth.  I strongly advise you to ignore it and just kill him.”

“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD!” Harry calls, rising from the head stone and walking to stand before Voldemort.  “Because I cannot be blamed for the death of a Hogwarts student and expelled while an innocent creature is forced to run.  And I cannot be killed by your killing curse while unarmed in my living room.  And I will not jump out of the way allowing myself to be killed by something else.  You cannot do to me what you have done to others so perhaps you should simply kill me the easiest way possible now.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Voldemort asks.

“Stab me with your wand.  Or is that too _Muggle_ for you.”

Voldemort smirks, “There are better ways.  Perhaps a fitting punishment for one who did not return to me is to have a child I suspect he cares for die by a spell he created.”  Harry frowns in confusion before Voldemort raises his wand.  Harry copies the action, trying to cast quicker than the Dark Lord can.  “ _Sectumsempra!_ ”

“ _EXPELLIARMUS!_ ”  The two spells collide in mid air and, to Harry, it felt as though an electric surge was going through his wand and into his hand.  The beam of light from the spells changed to become a single bright, gold, thread connecting the two wands.

Something appears to be coming out of Voldemort’s wand, Harry sees the not-quite ghosts of his Aunt and Uncle and of Cedric.  Harry’s not afraid anymore, he’s angry because how _dare_ the _monster_ before him have taken all of this away from him.

“When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments…but we will give you time…you must get to the portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts…do you understand, Harry?” The Ghostly James Potter asks.

Harry nods, “Yes, Uncle,” He whispers in reply.  A smile blooms on both Potters faces, but Harry doesn’t look to Lily’s.

“Harry…” Cedric whispers.  Harry looks to him, pain on every inch of his face.  But Cedric only smiles gently, cupping Harry’s face though Harry can not feel his touch.  “Take my body back, will you?  Take my body back to my parents…” Cedric requests. 

Harry feels something in himself break, “I will,” He promises.

“You were right, Harry.  I wanted you to fight back,” He says.  “Never stop fighting, Harry.”

Harry gives a pained smile as he nods jerkily.  “I promise.”

And the next thing he knows, he’s back.

 

Harry lays in his hospital bed, glad to finally be laying down.  Pomfrey goes to collect some potions for him, Padfoot in bed beside him, and Ron, Hermione, and Mrs Weasley surrounding the bed.

Mrs Weasley, with tears in her eyes from worry, needlessly smooths out his blankets and pulls them up to his chin.

“I’ve never been tucked in before,” Harry mutters, still feeling rather out of it.  Padfoot whines sadly, moving to lay his doggy head on Harry’s stomach.  A comforting weight that Harry is glad for, even if he’s not quite sure how to _feel_ gladness right now.

Despite somehow seeming more pained than before, Mrs Weasley smiles at him.  “Well, it makes all the difference.  You’ll be safe while you sleep now,” She tells him.

He feels tears in his eyes as he smiles at her, “You’re a really great Mother, Mrs Weasley.”  She smiles and squeezes his hand through the blanket before she smooths it out.

A potion later and Harry is fast asleep.

 

After he is woken up by McGonagall and Fudge arguing, and after, eventually, Sirius leaves the hospital to get the ‘old crowd’ back together, Harry is hugged by Molly.  He wonders if his Mother, whoever she is, would have hugged him like this.  Told him this wasn’t his fault even though it is.  He falls, thankfully, back to sleep.

 

When he wakes up next, its to the sound of the door opening.

“What are you two doing here?” Ron’s voice asks.

“We came to see our friend,” Ginny’s voice says.  Harry blinks his eyes open and looks at her.  He sees Cho beside her.

“Harry,” Cho greets cautiously, eyes red from crying.

“I-I’m so sorry,” He says, tears filling his own eyes.

“Harry, what happened?” Ginny asks, walking over to sit on the bed beside him as Cho takes a seat next to the bed where Ron and Hermione already are.

“Voldemort is back.”  Cho gasps loudly, Ginny just nods mutely.  He doesn’t say anymore, and she doesn’t push.

 

For the last month of school that year, it’s Ginny that holds Harry in front of the common room fire at night.

One night though, it isn’t Ginny who enters the room, it’s Neville.  He comes in and sits beside Harry.

“Want to talk about it?” Neville offers.

Harry hesitates a moment, and then tells him everything.  He leaves out the part about his Aunt Lily not protecting him and the curse not working on him, but apart from that he tells him everything, including the truth of his relationship with Cedric.  By the end of it, Neville has an arm around his shoulders and Harry is crying into his chest.

“You aren’t alone, Harry.  You don’t have to face this alone.”

 

Summer that year is the worst one yet.


	7. Not Old, Not New, Not the Same, Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter  
> NOTE: So sorry this is days late, I got so caught up in a different story that I forgot all about this. I literally haven’t spoken to my girlfriend in three days, she was so worried about me, so don’t think you’re the only ones I accidentally neglected.  
> PLEASE READ END NOTE – IT’S GOT AN EXPLANATION FOR SOMETHING QUITE IMPORTANT  
> Anyways, enjoy?

Harry lays in his bed, aching all over from the most recent beating from his Uncle after he, once again, woke them up at night by screaming.

For a moment, he’s sure he’s hallucinating when Moody and a few others come to rescue him.  But the next thing he knows he’s at a creepy old house.

He hugs Sirius when the Order of the Phoenix finish their meeting, and he feels for a moment like he’s just come home.  Harry pulls back.  This isn’t his home.  The man before him is _still_ lying to him about who his parents are, as is Lupin next to him.  Lupin who is seeming a little…out of it, dazed, or…

‘Is Professor Lupin drunk?’ Harry mouths to Hermione, knowing that Werewolves have fantastic hearing so he even shouldn’t whisper.

Hermione cringes and then jerks her head up the stairs.  The two climb up to the attic.  “Wow, I haven’t been up here before,” She says, looking around.  “Look at all this stuff.”

“It’s ancient,” He says, looking around in curiosity.  Then he looks back to her, “So, the Professor?”

“Right, so, turns out he’s a bit of an alcoholic,” Hermione says, “According to Ginny he stopped drinking while he was teaching but, without that constraint, probably coupled with the divorce, he went straight back in to the bottle.”

“Oh…” Harry trails off.  He’d never had any indication that his favourite Professor is an alcoholic.  Though, he supposes that it’s not exactly going to be tattooed on anyone’s forehead is it?  “How did Ginny know?”

“It’s Professor Lupin.”  This is enough of an answer for Harry.  If there’s something about Lupin, either Ginny already knows it or she will soon.  “Hey, Harry…I just, erm…how are you doing?” Hermione asks.

Harry raises an eyebrow in confusion, “How am I doing?”

“W-With Cedr-”

“I don’t want to talk about this Hermio-”

“I know, Harry.  I know you don’t.  But you can’t just keep everything bottled up.  What happened to you was hor-”

“YOU DON’T HAVE THE SLIGHTEST _CLUE_ WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!” Harry shouts at her rather suddenly.  She steps back in fright.  Harry turns away, tears in his eyes as he looks to the ground.  “I’m sorry,” He says quietly.

“I just want to help you, Harry,” Hermione tells him gently.

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that suggests the mere idea of things being better is ridiculous and hopeless because how can anything ever be better again? 

“You can’t,” He tells her, “No one can.”

 

That night at dinner, Harry morosely pushes food around on his plate but doesn’t actually eat anything.

When Ron notices this, he debates what to do.  His idea…will make things a tad awkward, but without bringing attention to the problem he’s got no other ideas.  “Hey Harry,” Ron begins.  Harry looks up with mild disinterest.  “Heard from Percy lately?”  He flicks his eyes to Harry’s plate and back once, just to make his intention clear. 

Harry looks to the plate again before looking at Ron, “Not much since…since school finished,” He replies.  He’s sort of impressed that he and Ron can carry on a conversation in code and still understand each other perfectly.

“I know it’s hard with him gone, since you two were so close.”  Harry looks to his plate sadly, nodding.  “You’ll see him again,” Ron tells him, “Someday.”

“Maybe sooner than expected,” Harry replies quietly.  He clears his throat as he looks up and sees many confused faces and Ron’s near horrified one.  “You know, coz I’ll have to go to the Ministry for my trial and he works there.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to wait for that before…doing the work Percy helps you with,” Ron says, jaw clenching slightly.  He starts wondering how long they can actually do this before neither know what they are saying anymore.  “And he’d _much_ rather you be here, with us, without him, than…in trouble with the Ministry.”

Harry, luckily, understands.  “I know,” he says.  He nods at his best friend, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Ron looks mildly concerned by that statement, but nods in relief all the same because he no longer thinks his mate is in imminent danger of trying to join Cedric.

“That conversation had absolutely nothing to do with Percy, did it?” Ginny asks, everyone else seeming to agree with her statement.

“It did a bit,” Ron says.

“But not much,” Harry admits.

“Everything all right?” Sirius asks. 

Harry looks at his Dad, _no, he’s not my Dad until he tells me the truth and actually starts_ being my Dad _.  Until then he is_ nothing _but Sirius._ Harry tells himself strongly before replying to Sirius out loud.  “Same old, same old.”

 

The next morning, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and George show Harry around the house.  It is getting more frequent to see George without Fred.  Though 9 times out of ten he is with Fred and Jamie, the tenth time now exists in which he leaves Fred and Jamie to their selves.  This time never used to exist but, according to him, though they’ve told him it isn’t necessary, he tries to give the two some time alone because they are growing *wink wink* closer.  That being said, when they run into them in the halls he goes to join those two leaving only Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry to continue the tour.

“So, how were your holidays?” Harry asks the others as they walk.  Ron looks to Ginny awkwardly, she rolls her eyes.  “What’s going on?” He asks.

“Mum and I aren’t talking,” Ginny replies, “We aren’t seeing eye to eye on things.  See, she seems to think I shouldn’t have been spending so much time with a boy so much older than me last year.  Said so after I had a bit of a break down and George tried to comfort me and I explained to her that one of my best friends died a month ago, or it had been a month at that point, and that was her response,” She says, sounding angry, yet hurt.  She wipes away the tears on her face roughly.

“Wow,” Harry comments, dumbfounded.

Ginny continues wiping at her eyes, “I tried to tell her how amazing Ced w-was but she just wou-wouldn’t listen.”

Ron puts an arm around his sister’s shoulders, she then turns her face into his chest and bursts into tears.  Harry swallows back the ball of grief in his throat and refuses to cry.  He _will not cry_.  “Someone once told me people who die are always with you,” He says, he hasn’t thought of the Polkas in a long time and he pushes that away again, not wanting to do so now.

“Do you really believe that?” Ginny asks derisively.  Harry looks down, thinking about all of the people he has lost.  But then he remembers what Cedric said to him in the graveyard _‘Never stop fighting’_ and he thinks about seeing his Aunt and Uncle and how they and Cedric got him out of there alive.

Harry nods, “I don’t believe things on blind faith, Gin.  Not ever.  But this…this I know is true.”

“He’s with you too, then, you know.”

With a scoff, Harry says, “Yeah, well.  If he has any sense he’s looking away.”

 

Eventually they hear laughter coming from the kitchen and head in that direction.

“I have absolutely no recollection of this thing.  I assume that means it was rather important to me,” They hear Sirius tell whoever else is in the room. 

Coming to stand in the doorway, they see Lupin give him a joyless smile and nod.  “I got it for you for Christmas one year, you wore it constantly after that.”

“When he says constantly, he means it.  You literally wore it to James’ wedding, and Alice’s, and your own!” Snape adds, once again sounding like an old friend despite claiming to hate the man.  Harry exchanges shocked looks with the others.

Sirius nods, “Yes, that sounds like me,” He says as Snape, Lupin, and Tonks all laugh at him.

“You’re married?”  Though now that he’s said it, Harry thinks he vaguely recalls Jamie mentioning that.  Dot?  Or Dani?  No, maybe Kel?  Harry can’t remember exactly.   

Sirius hesitates to speak so Lupin takes over.  “Harry, that album Rubeus put together for you.”

Harry frowns in confusion, “Rubeus?  Oh Hagrid!  Yes, what about it?” He asks as he walks in and sits down at the table. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron walking in along with him.

“There should be a few pictures in there of James, Lily, you, and a young woman with curly brown hair?” He asks.

Harry nods, “She’s in the wedding photo too,” He comments.

Lupin nods, “Yes, she was Lily’s maid of honour.  That’s Del Black, Sirius’…technically ex-wife.”  Naturally, as soon as the name is mentioned, Harry remembers Jamie mentioning her quite clearly.  He wonders if she’s his Mother, seeing as she was married to his…to Sirius, which would make her James’ sister.  Harry decides to have a look at the album later with Jamie to get what names for faces she remembers enough to give.  Sirius raises an eyebrow at his best mate, Harry reckons if the two had gotten divorced he should probably remember it.  Then again, he did just admit to not remembering the collar and Lupin hadn’t seemed surprised so something must be going on here that, unsurprisingly, neither of them have told him about.  “Marriages are voided when one half goes into Azkaban on a life sentence.  Interestingly, if both do then they are still legally married.”

 “Why do you _know_ that?” Sirius asks incredulously.

“I looked into it!”

Harry frowns as something occurs to him, something else Lupin has no reason to know.  “How did you know what photos are in my album?” He asks.

Lupin smiles at him, “Rubeus wrote to me among others to get the photos, I sent in the picture of the wedding party, a few others too.  And one of James and Lily in the Gryffindor common room.”

Harry’ eyes light up in a way Ron, Hermione, and Ginny haven’t seen since the Final Task.  “Oh good, I can finally get an answer then.  Is that Professor Snape with them?” He asks.  It wouldn’t be surprising because he knows that Snape was their friend, else he wouldn’t be Harry’s God-Father, except for one thing, “Why was a Slytherin in the Gryffindor common room?” Harry questions after Remus nods.

“He lived there for five years, we only had four in our dorm so he just moved in.”  Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Tonks look to Snape in surprise.

“Dungeons are cold, I don’t like cold,” Snape deadpans.

“You can just, move in like that?” Harry asks.

Sirius shrugs, “No one ever stopped it so we figured it was okay.  I can’t imagine they didn’t notice seeing as he and…seeing as he was always in our common room.  Few other Slytherins came and went as well, and Del.  She was in Hufflepuff though,” He tells them.  Harry wonders who it is Sirius is avoiding speaking about, but more than anything getting tired of everything being hidden from him.

“And I spent a bunch of time in the Slytherin common room in our final two years, no one ever stopped that,” Remus adds.

“Why would you want to do that?” Ron asks, scrunching his nose up like it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard.  Harry raises an eyebrow at Ron who looks sheepish and attempts to silently convey an apology to Harry.

Remus chuckles, “I have a lot of friends who were in Slytherin.”

“Is that how you ended up close with Malfoy and that?” Harry asks.

Remus nods, “Draco’s my God-Son.” The three look at him in shock, Ginny doesn’t seem surprised.

“Did you know about this?!” Ron asks his sister, she nods.

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Remus says with a sigh, Ginny chuckles.

 

Eventually, it occurs to Harry that this is a perfect opportunity to ask a question that has been bothering him since he first began suspecting the person in the photo of James and Lily is Snape.  He goes and grabs his photo album, walking back into the kitchen and opening it to the correct page before putting it in front of his Potions Professor.  “Why are you so horrible about him?”

 Snape looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders as he sighs and picks up the album.  “When it comes to your father, there is a lot that you do not understand, and at the time there was a lot I didn’t understand either.  Important things that I didn’t know. I…apologise. Perhaps my words were a tad harsh.”  Harry frowns as he looks at him.  He knows that the situation with his true parentage will come into this, but he cannot help feeling that there is more to it.  Hermione and Ron look at Snape in shock.

“I, uh, thank you Sir,” Harry replies, though he does not trust the apology, the explanation, or the man who gave them.

“Re?” Tonks asks after Ginny has spoken about Neville’s Boggart and Remus suddenly looks towards the kitchen like a dog whose ears have perked up from hearing a noise.

“Noth–” He begins as he looks away before cutting himself off and suddenly looking back, “Okay did no one else hear that?” Remus asks.  They all look confused, then there’s a louder noise, one the others _do_ hear.

“Oh, that’s just Kreacher,” Sirius says, as though that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.

“Who’s Kreacher?” Harry asks.

“Kreacher, would you come out here, please?” Snape calls out.

An unhappy looking House-Elf walks out of the kitchen.  “What is it Kreacher can help Kreacher’s half-blood Master with?” Harry and his friends exchange confused looks at the blatant disrespect yet, somehow, it had sounded almost fond.

“I only wish to introduce you to Harry.  Harry, this is Kreacher, Kreacher, Harry Potter.” 

Kreacher sneers at Harry before turning back to his ‘Half-Blood Master’.  “Why can’t the Half-Blood Master ever bring a nice pure-blood home?  Mistress Black would have been disappointed.”

Snape sighs, “Kreacher, we’ve talked about this.” 

The house-elf gives a long-suffering sigh before turning back, “Kreacher is pleased to meet you, young Mister Potter.”

Harry smiles and nods, “I’m pleased to meet you too, Kreacher.”  The house-elf seems surprised by that, nodding in a slightly more accepting fashion.  Harry wonders how Dobby and Winky are doing at Hogwarts and if Winky has recovered from last year at all.

Harry tunes back in just in time to hear, “He’s not a person, he’s a house-elf, the least he could have done was show a little respect to one of the members of the family he served.”  Hermione looks near _scandalised_ by Sirius’ words.  Harry, Ron, and Ginny share a look of fear.  Sure, they don’t like what Sirius said either, but they’re a little more concerned about Hermione’s reaction right now.

Snape glares at his old enemy/friend (“Oh Merlin, _literal_ frenemies!” “Ginny, don’t be an idiot.”) “House-elves have feelings too Sirius and, from what I hear, you treated him no better than he treated you.  Don’t ever insinuate that a house-elf is not a free-thinking individual with opinions of their own again!”

Sirius gives Snape a filthy look but, for once, Harry finds himself agreeing with his Professor.  “You sound just like Reg!”

“Well maybe that’s why Kreacher liked him and not you!” The two glare at each other.

Remus clears his throat, “Sirius, you know how sometimes your ideals match up with your parents’ simply because you haven’t been exposed to much else?”  Sirius nods, everyone else feels relief at hearing this and then bothered again at the idea of people like that raising Sirius. “I think this is one of those times.  Like when you found out Euphemia had cooked and you were so surprised because you didn’t know humans _could_ cook.” Sirius nods again while Ginny looks over in confusion.  “House-elves are people in their own right, so if you dislike Kreacher, that’s fine, but he’s free to dislike you as well.  Okay?” Sirius nods, suddenly seeming rather down which confuses Harry.

“Who’s Euphemia?” Ginny asks curiously.

“Harry’s grandmother.  Euphemia Potter,” Severus tells her.

Harry feels his mouth drop in surprise, “I have a Grandmother?  Well…I suppose I sort of _have_ to have had one…I never considered that,” He trails off as he realises he should have known he’d have grandparents.  Then again, he grew up without any parents, why would he immediately realise that his would have ones of their own?  “What were they like?  My Grandparents, I mean.  All four of them.”

Snape, Sirius, and Remus all exchange looks before Snape stands up.  “I just remembered I have something to do,” He says before practically storming out of the room and flooing away.  Harry refuses to feel guilty.  He has a right to know about his own damned family and it is _long_ past time these three begin respecting that right.

“Why don’t we talk about that another time, Harry?” Sirius looks a little pleading as he asks, so Harry, begrudgingly nods.  But only because he suspects that they don’t want to feed him a lie.  He’s grateful for that, if nothing else. 

 

Harry sits in shocked silence along with his friends after Remus tells them about Regulus Black.  “The last war, it was really bad wasn’t it?” Harry eventually asks Tonks who nods.

“I wasn’t around for it, obviously, I was seven when it ended.  But I’ve seen and heard enough to know that.”

“Do you think it will get that bad again?” Hermione asks, looking worried.  Benni bites his lip as he looks on nervously.

Tonks gets a hard look on her face, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

 

“Harry!  Ron!”  Harry wakes up in an instant, sitting up in bed and pulling his wand out from under his pillow, pointing it at the person in the doorway.  “It’s just me,” Ginny squeaks, hands up in surrender.

“Calm down, Mate,” Ron tells him.  Harry nods, lowering his wand and taking a deep breath.  “What’s going on, Ginny?”

“It’s Hermione,” Ginny says, “You know how she’s been disappearing?”

“Getting lost in the library, you mean,” Ron replies derisively.

“I don’t think so…”

“Ginny, what are you talking about?” Harry asks, wondering why this couldn’t have waited until morning.

“She’s just snuck out of the house!”  Harry and Ron exchange looks before jumping out of bed and looking out the window.  “She got on the Knight Bus before I could stop her, I was too slow trying not to wake anyone or set off that bloody portrait.”

“Get in and shut the door,” Harry tells her, she does so.  “Now what happened.”

Ginny sighs, “I woke up when the bedroom door creaked.  She was creeping down the hall so I went to follow her.  She just left, walked right out the door and…I don’t know but she seemed weird.”

“Weird how?” Ron pushes impatiently.

“Jittery.”

“She always gets like that when she’s breaking rules,” Harry says, looking at the window in worry again.

“Let’s go wait in your room for her to get back,” Ron suggests, looking at Ginny.  Harry and Ginny both nod so they sneak that way.

 

It’s two hours later before Hermione shuffles in again, shutting the door a little too loudly.  She giggles at it before turning to face the room and spotting the others.

“Shit.”

“Hermione where have you been?  We’ve been worried sick!” Harry tells her incredulously. 

She walks over, taking a seat on Ginny’s bed beside Ron, Ginny and Harry sitting on Hermione’s bed.  “I just went for a walk, it’s a lovely night you know, clear skies many stars it’s great!”

“I saw you get on the bus,” Ginny tells her.

“IIIIIII…went for a walk in a different suburb,” Hermione says completely unconvincingly.

“Hermione…” Ron pushes irately.

“I did, boring round here but there’s water and grass and parklands elsewhere!  Ever been to one? You should –”

“And what else did you do on this walk?” Ron asks forcefully.  Hermione looks down, picking at her nails for a moment. 

Harry frowns, “Hermione, look at me.”  Hermione looks up, blinking and seeming rather energetic.  Harry brushes a finger across her nose to wipe away some powder and looks at it on his thumb before his eyes go cold and hard and he looks back to her.  “Are you high?”

“W-What?  Harry, that’s ridiculous!  Why would I be _high_?  Do I seem like the type of person who would do that?  A patently _ridiculous_ accusation, an-”

“ _Hermione!_ ” Harry snaps, looking at her with severe disapproval.

Hermione flinches, “All right, I might be a _little_ bit high, but it’s fine!  Really!”

“Oh my God, what the hell is the matter with you?!”

“It feels good!  Why shouldn’t I feel good?  I’ve worked bloody hard enough at everything for _years_ , I deserve to feel good!” Hermione snaps angrily, “You’ve got no idea what my life is like outside of Hogwarts, no idea what _I’m_ like.  I have to try, so hard, all of the time.  And so, sometimes I just…I have to be _free_ , okay?!”

The room falls into silence for a few moments.  “How long has this been going on, Hermione?” Ron asks cautiously.

Hermione looks around twitchily, shifting slightly like she can’t sit still before clearing her throat, “On and off for about two years.”

“Jesus fuck, ‘Mione,” Harry exclaims.

“Oh sure, you don’t have any hang-ups at all, do you?  Tell me Harry, how was _dinner_?”  Harry looks like she just slapped him and she appears rather shocked herself.

“What?” Ginny asks in confusion as Ron glares daggers at Hermione.

“Don’t worry, Ginny,” He tells his sister.

“Hermione, you have to stop this,” Harry tells her rather loudly.  Ron winces, knowing that probably wasn’t the best way to go about this and that they are now in danger of waking other people.

“Like fuck I do!” Hermione replies in an almost yell.

“I think, what Harry means to say, is that you must know whatever this drug is, is not good for you,” Ron tries gently.

“I’m fine, I don’t need your help.”

“I’m sure Remus says that too,” Ginny throws in quietly, “Every time his family, his kids, _Benni_ , find him too drunk to walk.” 

Hermione looks mildly awkward at that, “Th-that’s different.  I’m not addicted!”

“Aren’t you?” Harry asks.

“No!  I…I might’ve been using more than normal lately, and maybe it’s not just with specific people anymore, but I’m not an addict!   I’m careful about that.”

“If you were careful about that you wouldn’t be doing it at all!” Harry tells her, growing louder once more.

“I don’t need you to be my saviour, Harry!” Hermione shouts at him, standing up.  The others all stand up too.

“BOTH OF YOU, CALM DOWN!” Ginny shouts.  They fall silent.  “Thank you.”  A moment later the door swings open, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Mad-Eye, Sirius, the twins, and all three Lupins stand on the other side of it.

“What is going on?” Sirius asks sounding baffled to find the four teenagers standing around and arguing with each other at three am.  The four look at each other awkwardly, Hermione jiggly her leg as they remain unsure how to answer.

“No one has anything to say?” Remus asks, looking unimpressed.

“I had a nightmare,” Ginny suddenly says, breaking the silence.

“Hermione came in to get me and accidentally woke Ron as well so we both came in.  We were just talking to help Ginny relax again,” Harry adds on without hesitation.

“Was just a stupid argument that got out of hand,” Ron says.

“Sorry we woke you,” Hermione finishes.

Everyone remains silent, the twins and Jamie leading Benni away.

“To bed, all of you,” Mrs Weasley tells them all sternly.  They nod, avoiding the eyes of all adults.

“Are you all right, Ginny?” Lupin asks her.

Ginny swallows uncomfortably as she nods, “Yeah just…woke up worried for my friends.  I couldn’t stand anything bad happening to them when it could be avoided,” She says pointedly.  Harry and Hermione exchange a look before they both hug Ginny.

“Like we said, Gin,” Ron says, “Everyone is okay.  It was just a dream.”

 

“I’m sorry I shouted at you last night,” Harry tells Hermione the next day, “I just don’t want…I mean I…I can’t lose anyone else, ‘Mione.”

Hermione looks at him, seeming substantially more settled than she did the night before.  Then she throws herself at Harry and hugs him tightly, tears in her eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t thinking about anyone else.  I usually only do it when I catch up with old friends but I just…I couldn’t sleep, I was worrying about you-know-who being back and everything that’s happening and I just wanted a break from it for a few hours.  I didn’t think anyone would find out, I didn’t think it would affect anyone but me.”

“It’s okay, Hermione.  So long as you are safe, it’s okay.”

Hermione looks at the wall behind Harry, chin resting on his shoulder, and takes an uneven breath.  “I’m fine,” She says, but it’s not especially convincing.

 

Mrs Weasley walks into the kitchen the morning after a page of Salazar Slytherin’s diary was given to Sirius by Lucius, looking concerned.  “Has anyone seen Harry?  I tried to tell him it’s time for breakfast but I can’t find him anywhere.”

Hermione looks to Ginny who shrugs, “Haven’t seen him since 3am.”

“Why were you up at 3am Ginevra?” Mrs Weasley asks.

“Comforting one of my closest friends after he had a nightmare about witnessing the death of one of our closest friends,” Ginny replies tetchily.

“Remus isn’t here either,” Sirius says nervously, “Still sure everything is fine, Arthur?”  Arthur shifts nervously in his seat.

“Have you checked the library?” Ron asks his mother, “If Harry’s still obsessing, like I know he will be, about yesterday then he may have buried himself in research again.”

“If that’s what he’s doing then he would have asked for our help, or mine at least,” Hermione points out.

“Not if he went straight there instead of back to sleep this morning when you weren’t around,” Ginny says unthinkingly.

“Why weren’t you around?” Jamie asks suspiciously.

Hermione blinks, “I was asleep.”

“Right, technically Harry and I weren’t around _her_.  We went into Harry and Ron’s room so that we wouldn’t wake her again.  Ron’s a heavier sleeper,” Ginny says. 

Ron shoots Hermione a look that has her cringing and looking at the table.  “We’ll go look for him,” Ron says, nodding to Ginny and Hermione.  The two get up and go with him.

 

“Hermione, is there anything you want to tell us?” Ron asks her pointedly as they walk towards the library.

Hermione hunches in on herself, grabbing one arm nervously.  “I tried to stop,” She admits in a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Ginny pulls her into a hug, “We’ll help you.”

“Harry’s going to hate me,” Hermione says, crying slightly.  She wipes the tears away with a shaking hand that she looks at and curses at grabbing it with her other hand in an attempt to stop the tremor.

“No he won’t,” Ron assures her, “He _won’t_.  We just have to find him.”

But he’s not in the library.

“Where else could he be?” Ginny asks with worry.

Hermione frowns, “How did he seem when he left your room?” She asks.

“I was asleep,” Ginny tells her, “He was a little on edge when we were talking but I assumed that was just from talking about Cedric.”

“So let’s assume the same thing.  You’re Harry, it’s the middle of the night.  You’ve just been talking about Cedric, and now your only company has fallen asleep.  You leave the room, and start heading back to your own.  Where do you end up?” Hermione poses.

Ron looks up, “I panic on the way and hide in the closet between the two rooms.”

The trio go to the closet and open it, finding Harry in a ball on the ground in the corner.

“Harry?” Ginny asks, kneeling in the doorway and speaking softly.

Harry whimpers, curling in on himself more.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers over and over again.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Ginny says gently.

“No no, you don’t understand, you don’t know…I…I begged him, Ginny.  I begged him to kill me,” Harry admits quietly, eyes wide in shock as he stares at the wall in front of him, not moving an inch.  “I begged Voldemort to kill me, I _begged_ him, how could I…how could…”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione says, tears in her eyes as a hand goes to her mouth.

“Come on, Mate,” Ron says after everyone stays silent in shock for a moment except Harry who keeps muttering ‘I begged him, I’m sorry’ under his breath.  “Let’s get you out of here.”  He grabs Harry’s arms and heaves him up, guiding him out of the cupboard.  “Go back down, tell them we found Harry in the library and he hadn’t slept so he’s going to take a nap and I’m making sure he stays put until he falls asleep,” Ron tells the other two.  They nod.  “I’m gonna make sure he really does get some sleep.  Ginny, keep an eye on Hermione.  All four of us are going to have a talk when Harry wakes up.”

“He has enough going on witho-” Hermione begins protesting.

Ron cuts her off, “So do you.  Do you want the two of us to cut you out of what’s happening to Harry because you have other shit to deal with?”

Hermione holds his gaze for a moment before she bites her lip and looks to the ground, “Of course not,” She eventually admits.

“Good.  Now, both of you go eat something.  I’ll stay with Harry.”

As Ron sits on a chair beside Harry’s bed, Harry speaks for the first time in a while.  “Do you hate me?”

Ron looks up from the chess game he is playing with himself in confusion, “Why would I hate you?”

“Because of what I did, because I let him win, I let him break me.”

“Harry, you aren’t broken.”

He scoffs, “Ron, he asked me something, said he would kill me if I told.  That would be my reward.  I didn’t know the answer, but if I did I would have told him.”

“I don’t care,” Ron says, “I don’t care what he said or what you said or any of it.  He hasn’t won yet, and so long as just one person keeps fighting, he will never win.  That person doesn’t have to be you, Harry.  If your only fight is the fight for survival, then so be it.  No one can make you take part in this.  But you can’t have a life without war if you don’t have a life to start with.”

Harry nods, but it’s a long time before he falls asleep.

 

A few hours later, Harry blinks awake to see Hermione, Ginny, and Ron.

“The questions were getting annoying so we holed up in here,” Hermione explains when he seems surprised to see them all.  Harry nods, sitting up slowly.

“I think it’s time we all talk,” Ron says, putting some cushions on the ground in a circle.  He gestures to them and, one by one, the others take a seat on them.  “Right.  Now, Harry and Ginny have a special connection, they have done for years and last year only grew closer.  Hermione and Ginny, well I assume you two have some kind of closeness after periodically sharing a room for three years,” He begins, the two girls nod.  “Right, Harry, Hermione, and I are best friends, obviously.  And Ginny, you and I are brother and sister.”

“What’s your point?” Harry asks in confusion.

“My point is that we all have a connection to everyone else in the room in some way, I think it’s time we pool that together.  The four of us, we become a quartet.  Since coming to Grimmauld Place the four of us have become more aware of each other’s issues.  I think that instead of trying to shoulder them or individually help each other, we should metaphorically put them all in the centre of this circle so that we can all pitch in on all of them,” Ron explains.  The other three exchange nervous looks before slowly agreeing.  “Great, who wants to start?”  No one volunteers.  Ron taps on his knee a few times before he clears his throat, “All right, I’ll start,” He says.  They look to him in mild surprise.  “Ever since first year, what we went through trying to get to the stone, I’ve been trying to get better at things I wasn’t good at.  I make a point of whining about homework and stuff but the truth is I’m on Os in everything except potions.  I just keep thinking what if no one else is around next time?  I never would have made it to the stone.  And then things kept happening.  The chamber, Pettigrew, the Tournament… I’m not good enough to stop anything.  In third year, George told me something about the first war, something about Lupin, a guy who seems the sort to have excelled in school, and it made me realise that that isn’t enough.  I looked at other things I’m not good at, I learnt to swim, I learnt proper duelling techniques, memorised the different sections of the library so I would know where to go to find a book should the need arise, I even made friends with a Muggle willing to teach me karate.  I’ve been so afraid when the time comes that I need to step up, I won’t be able to.”

“Being able to step up, Ron,” Harry begins, “Has nothing to do with how much you know or what skills you have.  It’s just doing your best regardless of that.  When we went after the stone we had no idea what to do.  When Hermione found out about the basilisk, she couldn’t have known how to deal with it.  She pulled out that mirror because something happened and she rose to the challenge.  You did it when we went after those spiders, or when you drove the car.  You didn’t know how to drive it or fly it, not properly, and you knew that.  But when it became necessary, you buckled up, and you did it.  When the time comes that you need to step up, Ron, you’ll do it.”  Ron nods solemnly.  “But for the record, I know how you feel.  I fought with a sword once when I’ve never even picked one up before.  After that, I’ve been practicing fighting one of the suits of armour so that if it ever happens again I’ll know how to use it.”

“I know how you feel too,” Ginny admits quietly.  The others turn to her.  She takes a deep breath before continuing, “Harry and I lied about what happened in my first year.  Tom didn’t kidnap me, h-he’d been partially possessing me for most of the year, fulling possessing me for the rest of it.  I’m the one who wrote the messages on the wall and did everything else,” She says.  Ron and Hermione look at her, flabbergasted. “Sometimes I can still hear his voice, whispering in my ear,” She whispers, eyes wide as she stares at the ground before her, “But I don’t remember most of what happened, so I can’t hear what he is saying.  Just his voice.”

“Is that what your nigh terrors are about?” Hermione asks quietly.

Ginny jolts slightly like she’d forgotten they are there.  She nods, “I don’t remember the dreams, I think they’re about what happened.  I did some research, apparently it’s common in victims of trauma.  What it means is that I didn’t lose my memories because of magic, I’ve blocked them out.  Which means that one day they might come back.”  Ginny doesn’t appear to be looking forward to that day.

“If and when that day comes, we’ll all be here,” Harry tells her strongly.

She nods and smiles gratefully, “Anyway, I made myself become rather proficient in Occlumency after that.  That’s magic that protects the mind from outside influence,” She explains when she sees Harry’s confused look.

“That just leaves you two,” Ron says after a few moments of silence, looking between Hermione and Harry.

They exchange looks for a moment before Harry nods, “I’ll do it.”  He takes a deep breath, “Do you remember what I said, about the dead always being with us?” He asks, the others nod.  “Sometimes I wish they weren’t.  Sometimes I just feel so… _haunted_ by everything that has happened and I don’t know how to move on or deal with it.  Like I’m trapped in my cupboard under the stairs and everyone I’ve ever failed is in there with me and I can’t get out.”

“Mate, no one knows how to deal with what they go through,” Ron says, “No one would know how to move on in your situation.  I don’t think it’s about moving on from what happened by ignoring your ghosts.  I think you have to accept that they are there, accept it isn’t your fault, and then they’ll help you open that door to free yourself.”

Harry nods, “I just feel so angry sometimes.  Every adult in this house knows more about me than I do and every single one of them lies to me about it every day.  They aren’t the only ones, you know?  How many people in the Order must know the truth, how many teachers at school do, how many students with involved family members know things?  I spent my whole life not knowing who I am and the people around me hid that information from me.  I finally found out the truth but it wasn’t true, it was all still lies and they continue lying to me every second of every day and I’m supposed to just keep going like I can trust them?  Like they have earnt my respect or my kindness in any way?  I don’t, and they haven’t.  Some of the things in that closet aren’t dead, they are alive and solid and it’s them that’s blocking the door, more than anything else.”

“Isn’t that the easy part?” Ginny asks.  Harry looks to her in confusion, she shrugs, “Well, if they’re alive and solid, that means you can talk to them.  You can’t do anything to change what happened to Cedric, or your Aunt and Uncle, or whatever else you are blaming yourself for.  But the people that are still around, you aren’t too late to fix that.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment, “Maybe I’m not, but they are.  They don’t deserve my forgiveness when they won’t even admit there’s something to forgive.”

“Harry, why didn’t you tell Sirius that you know the truth that night in the shack?” Hermione asks, putting together from the conversation that at some point Harry has told Ginny what he knows.

“Because he left me, Hermione,” Harry replies, sounding angry though not at her.  “He left me to go after Wormtail and get his precious revenge.  He didn’t escape Azkaban for me, no matter what he says.  He did it to go after Pettigrew again.  He left me alone for twelve years because he was wallowing in self-pity and only got out to do the thing that had left me alone to begin with.  Then he doesn’t tell me the truth…I think it’s pretty clear he has no interest in being my Dad.  So I have no interest in being his Son.  That doesn’t mean I appreciate the fact that he’s lying to me.  Just means that even if he told me the truth, he’d still only be my God-Father, and a pretty shit one at that.”  The others hadn’t realised how much resentment Harry feels over that whole situation but, aren’t sure how to deal with it.  They can’t refute what he’s said, but they also don’t think that the assumptions he’s drawn about Sirius are correct.  “Can we move on from me for now?” Harry asks.

“’Course, Mate.  ‘Mione?” Ron prompts.

Hermione looks down, fiddling with her hands.  “I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t addicted.  I really didn’t think I was but…now I’m not so sure.  I mean, it’s not a physical addiction,” She immediately defends, “I’m not having negative effects if I stop using.  Well, beyond some twitchiness, tremors, and nervousness.  But that’s…not really from _not_ using, it’s just sort of part of the mental compulsion _to_ use.  And that’s the problem.  It’s not a physical addiction, more like a mental or emotional one.  I keep having the urge to get more, sometimes I haven’t even fully come down yet.  This summer has been amazing but…I feel like that amazingness wasn’t even real and that makes me feel worse which makes me…” Hermione trails off, sucking in a shaky breath, “Makes me want more again.”  By this point her hands have developed quite the tremor and she’s gnawing at her lip.

“So we need to find a way to help you deal with the cravings, right?” Ginny asks, making sure she understands things correctly.  “If you aren’t gonna like, go through withdrawal or anything, then we just work out ways to enable you to stop taking whatever it is you’re on, and you’ll be okay?”

Hermione shrugs, “I guess.  I don’t know, I just want to feel like me again.  I’ve barely read a thing all summer, none of my homework is done, I haven’t played my guitar even _once_ , I’ve been sneaking out –”

“You play guitar?” Ginny asks, everyone looks at her in exasperation. “Right, sorry.  Not the time.  Continue.”

“I just feel like I can’t be trusted anymore, not by anyone else, and not by me,” Hermione finishes with a sigh.

“We’ll get you through this, Hermione,” Ron tells her.

“There’s something I haven’t told you…” Hermione says, shifting uncomfortably, “I-I’m a foster kid.  I was so angry when I was younger but, living with the Grangers…they’re my family and I want to stay with them.  I try so hard to be better than I am, to be everything I’m not, so that they won’t give me up.  I feel like I found out a lot about myself doing that.  Like, I actually enjoy reading and learning, school really is important to me and it’s fascinating and, well, my version of fun far more than anything I used to be into.  I think the me that I was was really just trying to act out and get revenge on the world.  And really, I wasn’t that bad.  I was ten when the Grangers took me in, they saved me before I became like the older kids in the system.  Still though, I wasn’t exactly well behaved.  I’ve changed so much but, it’s like it will never be enough.”

“That’s what you meant, about having worked so hard for so long?” Ginny asks.

Hermione nods, “I know a lot of people from the orphanage that are _heavily_ into drugs, but I’ve never been that involved.  It was just parties with that lot and stuff, lately everything’s just gotten to be too much and, because of those parties, I knew it would make me feel…”

“Free?” Ron asks, Hermione nods.

“Hey, out of curiosity, what exactly _is_ it that you’re taking?” Harry questions.

Hermione shifts slightly in discomfort again, “Crack.” 

Ron and Ginny have no idea what that is but it leaves Harry confused.  “I thought that was smoked?”

“Usually, but I didn’t have a pipe or a lighter that night you found out so, I just snorted it and hoped for the best.  It worked, wasn’t as quick to kick in though.”

“We do things we wouldn’t normally when we’re desperate,” Harry says, frowning and looking thoughtful.

Hermione looks to the others in confusion, “What are we talking about?  Because I don’t think it’s me anymore.”

Harry shakes his head, “Sorry.  We should stay on topic.”

“I think we could use a short break,” Ron says after no one speaks again and the atmosphere remains quite heavy.

“…How desperate must Salazar Slytherin have been to make a potion like that?  There was real fear in those diary entries,” Harry says.  The others look mildly exasperated but don’t chastise him.

“He probably had a lot of people after him, and he knew it,” Hermione says.

“Well exactly,” Harry states, “A lot of people would’ve been after him, I imagine he would have made slews of enemies, whole armies maybe.  So what was so special this time that he was terrified enough to use a new potion he’d _just_ made, on his _children_.  He clearly cared about them a lot.”

“What’s your point?” Ron asks.

Harry sighs, rubbing at his forehead, “I don’t know.  I did find out something interesting though,” He tells them, “I was in the library after dinner last night, looking into that parseltongue written language.”

“And?” Ginny questions, “What did you find?”

“That Merlin created it, as Hermione said.  But that didn’t sit quite right with me, so I did some checking.  Every book I found in there said the same thing, that Merlin existed centuries after Salazar Slytherin, about three hundred years from most accounts.”

“So…?” Hermione asks, then it clicks, “So how did a form of writing invented by a man who wasn’t born yet, end up in Slytherin’s diary.”

“Between the inconsistency there, and the obviously false history about why he left, and what he said in the diary about _needing_ to leave, I think someone from within the school was targeting him.  That’s why he was worried for his children, why he wanted to get away from the other founders.  They were all being targeted.  And whoever it was went through a lot to try and cover it up.  I think we were all fed a false history, and if I’m right, then whoever did it did not work alone.  Someone had to be around to falsify the date of Merlin’s life.  To what end, I don’t know.  But if this conspiracy _does_ exist, then we can’t trust anything we learn from a history book while looking into this.”

“Then where do we look?” Hermione asks, looking frightened, “What _do_ we trust?”

“It’s worse than that though,” Ron says, “Because Harry, you’re right.  Everyone in this house _is_ lying, but not just to you, to all of us.  It’s not just _what_ do we trust, it’s _who_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I put myself in a tricky situation here. I can’t give more of an explanation for Hermione’s actions here without giving too much away for the actual main story (Which is nearly completed FYI!!!!!!!), but I also can’t not mention it here or it’ll be spoken of or something and everyone will be like ‘wtf, how was this not mentioned before?’. Basically what I’m saying is, I know this is majorly OOC Hermione here, but it will be explained. I just can’t give more context now. I promise, I’m not wrecking Hermione’s whole character or changing her entirely or anything.  
> Yeah okay I’m rambling again. I need more coffee.


	8. Can't Go Over It, Can't Go Under It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter
> 
> NOTE: I also forgot to mention last time that I’ve never written an addiction to Crack Cocaine before. Any other time I’ve written about addiction (Can’t believe I live a life where I can write that sentence) it’s either been alcohol or heroin, two things grown familiar with and, in one case, have reall experience with. So if my portrayal of that is off, I apologise and hope it does not overtly distress anyone, I just thought I’d try something new and expand my horizons a bit. Wasn’t expecting it to be very different from heroin but, according to my research, it really is so, if nothing else that was interesting to learn.
> 
> Anyways, I’m rambling, sorry.

After their talk, things in general improve.  They help Harry when he’s having trouble eating and cover for him when others notice him not, Ginny’s night terrors are now dealt with by all four of them instead of one, and Harry is looked after once Ginny is asleep again in case he’s been triggered once more, Ron seems more himself than he has since third year though he continues to take things seriously just finding it possible to relax and realise the world isn’t ending and he isn’t alone to deal with it.  They try their best to help Hermione, and she does begin smoking Crack less often, but the addiction that she’s still not fully admitting the extent of is messing with her mind and making it difficult to accept their help.  It’s all well and good for her to decide to get clean while sober or high, but when the cravings get too strong her resolve crumbles rather quickly.  At this point, the only thing helping her is them realising when she’s going out and getting her before she gets there, talking to her and distracting her as they wait it out.

Still, when they go back to school they all feel far less isolated and more ready to face whatever Umbridge throws at them.

“Our friendship and the trust we’ve built…it won’t go away when we arrive, will it?” Ginny asks when they get to the station.

“No, Gin,” Ron says, pulling her into a hug and ignoring the surprised looks on his family’s faces.  The two have never been particularly close, as siblings go, after all.  “It won’t change at all.”

 

Unfortunately, despite this closeness, they don’t see what’s happening.  They don’t see Harry as he writes lines for Umbridge. 

_I must not tell lies_

They don’t see the anger within him growing.

_I must not tell lies_

They don’t see the way that anger powers every spell he fires.

_I must not tell lies_

They don’t see the toxic strength he gains with every detention.

_I must not tell lies_

They don’t see the way he pisses her off and goes back.

Again.

And Again.

And Again.

_I must not tell lies_

 

The DA goes well at least, but the stress of everything grates on everyone.

“Harry, you haven’t eaten in two days, you _need_ to eat something,” Ginny tells him, holding out a ham sandwich.

“I can’t eat that,” Harry says shiftily.

Ginny puts a hand on her hip, “Why _not_?” She asks, obviously not believing a word of it.

“Err – I’m vegetarian.”

“Harry James Potter, I have known you for four and half years, I know bloody well that you eat meat!” She yells at him, he flinches back mildly.  Ginny thrusts the sandwich towards him again.  Now that the rest of the common room is watching, Harry has no choice but to accept it.  Ginny sits with him while he eats.  “You know, if you’d just talked to me about what was happening, I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.  I don’t appreciate you trying to lie your way out of it, as though I’m stupid or something and wouldn’t notice.”

Harry looks away in shame, taking a bite of his sandwich and nodding, “I’m sorry.”

 

The next DA meeting, Harry stands up in front of everyone, about to introduce the days activities when Dean raises his hand awkwardly like he’s not sure what the proper protocol for asking a question here is.

“Yes?” Harry asks, equally as uncertain about it.

“Where are Ron and Hermione?” He asks.

“That, is an absolutely fantastic question and one I do not have the answer to.  Anyone seen them?” He questions.

“I saw Ron on the way here,” Luna says, sounding dream-like as always, “I asked if he was coming tonight, he was rushing out of the castle you see.”

“What did he say?” Harry asks, now sounding concerned.

“He said he had to stop Hermione from making a mistake, then he ran off.”

Ginny and Harry exchange looks for a moment before Harry clears his throat, “Well, there we have it.  Now, today…”

 

The two head outside after the DA using the Marauders’ Map to keep from getting caught, they hope to find some kind of sign of where the others may have gone.  Instead, they find Ron and Hermione heading back to the castle.

“I tried but…I’m sorry,” Ron says as soon as they reach them.

“I don’t _need_ you all to take care of me,” Hermione tells them in a sing-song voice, then she laughs, “I’m fine, I’m _great_ , I’m on cloud fucking _nine_.  I don’t even care about Umbridge.  She’s an old toad, I’m sure she’ll die of asphyxiation from how often she clears that frog-like throat of hers,” she says before laughing again.

“Right, can you keep it down long enough for us to get inside?” Harry asks her, deciding none of the rest of it will matter if they get caught like this.

“But I don’t _want_ to go inside.  It’s boring, let’s go _do_ something.  I’m feeling great about this, what about we go like, try and dodge the Whomping Willow’s branches?  It’d be great!  Bet I could dodge ‘em all,” She says with a grin, pupils dilated enough that Harry can tell from five feet away.

“ _Not_ that, but the Shack may not be a terrible idea,” Harry suggests.

“Anything’s better than out in the open like this with Umbridge prowling around the place.  The last thing we need is anyone finding out that Hermione Granger is a drug addict,” Ginny tells them.

So they go to the shack and they wait as Hermione rides the high.

Eventually she comes down.

“No no no, can’t do it, please, don’t make me do it,” Hermione begs, curled up on the bed in the shack.  She fists the sheets spasmodically as she cries.

“’Mione, you have to get through this at some point.  The sooner you do it, the easier it will be on you,” Harry tells her calmly, having done a lot of research into addiction as have the other two.

“I DON’T WANT TO!  WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!” Hermione screams at them.  She grabs her wand and points it at them, “Get out of the way,” She says.  It would have been more threatening if she weren’t struggling to aim her wand accurately.

“Hermione…”

“OUT. OF. THE. WAY!”

“ _No_ ,” Harry replies strongly, visibly planting his feet.  “What are you going to do, Hermione?  Kill me?”

Hermione wavers slightly, “Please, I…I just want it to stop.  I need it, Harry,” She tells him.

“You will be okay, Hermione.  You just have to get through this bit.  We are all here with you.”

Hermione lowers her wand, tears streaming down her face.  Ron takes the wand from her as Harry moves for ward to guide her back to the bed and hug her.

It’s only ten minutes later that Hermione is asleep with her head in Harry’s lap as he calmly strokes her hair.

“This is more than just her coming down, isn’t it?” Ginny asks, shuffling nervously.

Harry looks at her nervously as he nods.  “I can’t be _sure_ but…I think she’s going through withdrawal.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron remarks as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “This is _so_ not the time for this.”

“What are we going to _do_?  This could take up to ten _days_ , we can’t bring her to class like this, we can’t all disappear, and we can’t leave her alone!” Ginny exclaims quietly but fiercely in an attempt to not wake Hermione.  Ron and Ginny both look to Harry for direction. 

He looks at Hermione before he sighs, “We need to take her to Pomfrey.  I know it’s a risk, what with Umbridge around, but it’s one we have to take.  If something goes wrong or something bad happens we have no way of dealing with it.  Should Umbridge find out…well, I’ll take care of that if it happens.”

“How exactly will you do that?” Ginny asks.

Harry gets a hard look on his face when he looks to them again, “It’s best you don’t know.  Now come on, we have to get her to the hospital wing.”

 

Fifteen minutes later finds Ron and Harry with Hermione’s arms over their shoulders as they walk into the hospital wing.  She’s awake now and had tried to protest, but they wouldn’t hear it.

“Mr Potter, Mr Weasley?” Madam Pomfrey asks after Ginny has knocked on the door to her chambers and called her out.  Harry and Ron have since placed Hermione on a bed, Harry holding one of her hands.  “What’s going on?”

“Withdrawal from a Muggle drug,” Harry replies, swallowing harshly.

Pomfrey’s eyes widen as she hurries to them and starts looking over Hermione.  “Poor dear,” She mutters under her breath, “I’ll be back with some potions in a moment, stay with her.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Ginny replies easily.

 

With Umbridge hovering around the place, Harry can’t risk going to visit Hermione without drawing attention to what is happening.  Ron and Ginny check in when they can without garnering suspicion.

It’s eight days before Hermione is through it all.  She remains in the hospital for an extra day before she’s released.

She instantly heads back to the Common Room, feeling shaky and nervous but far better and more in control than she has in longer than she cares to realise.  As she walks in, the occupants of the room all turn to her.

“Hey!  Welcome back, Hermione,” Dean greets.  Everyone else saying hi and giving well wishes. 

Hermione smiles, almost shyly, before taking a deep breath to collect herself.  “Thank you, all of you,” She says.  Looking behind them she sees her three closest friends watching on proudly, she grins, “It’s good to be back.”

 

 

Harry wakes up, hand still burning from detention.  The DA was compromised, Dumbledore was forced to run, it’s all over. _Does it matter?  It was all useless anyway_ , He thinks to himself.  _Cedric knew all of this and it didn’t save him.  He’s too powerful.  No one can stop him._ Harry rolls onto his side, fighting back the burn in his eyes.  _Why did I think I could help them?  I accidentally defeated him a few times, but when it came down to my genuine ability to do so, I was defeated.  I grovelled before him, sobbing,_ begging _, like a hopeless fool.  And then I ran away._ Harry clenches his fist causing the wounds from last night to be aggravated.  He hisses slightly, then feels a cold and hard determination pool within him.  _I will not be defeated by some noseless fucking_ mutant _with an ego the size of fucking_ Jupiter _!  Not without putting up a damned good bloody fight.  No, this doesn’t end here._

_It’s not over until I say it’s over._

Sufficed to say, he’s in a pretty pissed off mood for a while as he tries and fails to plan attack after attack, always being stopped by the same thing.  He can’t do it alone, but he won’t watch someone he cares for die again.

 

 

Standing in the forest and listening to Umbridge call for him to help her, he wonders if this is what it was like for Voldemort when Harry begged him to kill him.  Voldemort was willing to give Harry what he asked for.  Maybe that makes Harry worse in the end.  He doesn’t want to end her suffering.  He wants to prolong it.

“I’m sorry, Professor.  I must not tell lies.”

It’s with a dark look, almost a smile, that he watches her be carried off with the herd.

“Harry?” Hermione asks cautiously after Grawp has run off after the Centaurs. 

He turns, looking completely unapologetic, “Where do we go from here?”

Hermione looks at him anxiously, “We need to get back up to the castle.”

“By the time we’ve done that, Sirius’ll probably be dead!” Harry snaps at her.

“Well, we can’t do anything without our wands,” She points out hopelessly, “Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London.”

“Yeah, we were just wondering that,” A familiar voice says from behind her.  Ron comes through the trees, Ginny, Neville, and Luna appearing behind him.

“We fly,” Luna states.

“Only Ron’s got a broom,” Harry reminds her.

“I’ve got a broom,” Ginny throws in.

“Well, then that’s four people covered if the flyers are competent enough to take passengers,” Hermione says.

“Right, but there are six of us,” Neville tells her.

“There are ways to fly other than a broom,” Luna comments, looking behind Harry. 

He turns to see two Thestrals.  His eyes light up as he looks back at her, “Think there are more around?”

“Well, they are attracted by blood so, I expect more will turn up,” She replies, looking over Harry and Hermione.

And sure enough, they soon fly off to London with a Thestral each.

 

Harry is unsurprised by Ginny’s gasp of fear when Lucius Malfoy appears, after all he did nearly kill her.  The Death Eaters go on to explain about the Prophecy and why the Dark Lord hasn’t come to get it himself.

“So he’s got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?” Harry questions, “Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it – and Bode?”

“Very good, Potter, very good,” Lucius replies slowly, “But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintelligent.”  Harry falters, unsure how to keep them talking.  But he led his friends to their potential deaths, apparently to rescue someone who didn’t need it, and he _has_ to get them out.  Lucius must see something of his internal struggle on his face because at that moment he opens his mouth to speak again, “Quite reckless of you to bring your friends here, as though you had any hope at leading them.  We both know you aren’t a saviour, or a hero, or a _chosen one_.  You’re a coward.” Harry flinches slightly.  “You begged the Dark Lord for death before, Potter.  Give me the prophecy, and I will grant you that wish.”  Harry’s eyes widen slightly, he hears Neville gasp from behind him.  “No more Dursleys, no more guilt, no more nightmares of your beloved Cedric dying.  I can take away all of your pain,” Lucius promises gently.

Harry swallows harshly, lifting the hand holding the prophecy, “Thank you, Lord Malfoy,” Harry says, feeling his friends shift in a mild panic behind him, as Lucius begins to smile victoriously, “For reminding me of Cedric, and of exactly what I’m fighting for.”  He throws the prophecy to the ground where it smashes upon impact. “NOW!” Harry shouts at his friends who all begin breaking the shelves.  Over the sound of others smashing and shelves falling, Harry’s prophecy remains unheard.  “RUN!”

Neville, Harry, and Hermione run off, locking themselves in a room.

“FIND HIM!” Lucius Malfoy’s _enraged_ voice screams.

“What do we do?” Hermione asks, sounding shaky.

He turns to see a familiar tremor in her hands, one not borne from fear.  “’Mione –”

“I’m fine,” she tells him sharply, “But _what do we do_?!”

They hide under the desk in the room just before two Death Eaters _Alohomora_ the door and enter the room.

“They might’ve run straight through to the hall,” One of them says.

“Check under the desk,” The other one orders.

“ _STUPEFY!_ ” Hermione casts as soon as the Death Eater bends into view.

Harry sees the other point his wand at her.  “ _Avada ke_ -” Harry leaps in front of Hermione. “- _davra_!” The spell hits him square in the chest.  He skids across the ground a bit, curled in on himself as he feels the burn course through his veins once more, as though the very essence of his soul were on fire.

“HARRY!” Hermione screams.

“Expelliarmus!” Neville casts at the Death Eater whose wand goes flying.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Hermione adds, dealing with the Death Eater for now.  She and Neville drop down beside Harry.  “Harry…” She whispers, rolling him over.  He grunts in pain, Hermione screams in fright as she and Neville jump back.

“I fucking _hate_ it when they do that,” Harry groans, blinking his eyes open.

“HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!”

“ _Please_ lower your voice,” Harry requests, even as the headache subsides and he feels the surge of power he had felt last time come through him.  Harry suddenly laughs a little manically and, quite literally, _jumps_ up.  “Well then, shall we?” He asks, sounding like they’re going for a game of laser tag and not running for their lives.  Neville and Hermione exchange shocked looks, but at that moment the first Death Eater gets up, flailing arms and crying baby head.  Harry throws an arm out at him, eyes glowing green like they hadn’t been able to see before when the spell first hit Harry.  The Death Eater hits the wall behind him and drops to the ground, unmoving.

“H-Harry?” Neville asks. 

Harry turns to them, still grinning.  Then the madness fades from his eyes and he looks back to the Death Eater in fear.  He goes over and tries to find a heartbeat.  “No,” He whispers pleadingly, “Not again, _please_ not again.”

“Again?” Hermione asks in shock and concern. 

Harry swallows harshly, standing.  “We can’t just stay here,” He says, sounding angry as he so often does these days.  He stalks out of the room, absent-mindedly waving a hand at a Death Eater that runs towards him as he does so.  That Death Eater drops to the ground as the other had.  Neville and Hermione once more exchange looks, this time of horror.  But Harry’s already out the door so they quickly scramble after him.

 

Harry watches as Sirius floats off into the veil.  He makes to run after him when strong arms wrap around him, holding him back.

“There’s nothing you can do, Harry –” Remus tells him, but Harry doesn’t listen, can’t listen.  This can’t have happened _again_ , he can’t have just watched someone he loves die, _again_.

_Please God, not again._

Harry sees Bellatrix escaping and goes after her, managing to escape Remus’, suspiciously lax, grip to do so.

 

“Did you _love_ him, little baby Potter?” Bellatrix asks mockingly.

Harry feels a hatred like none he’s ever felt rise up within him.  “ _Crucio_!”  She drops to the ground as she screams, but it only lasts a second.

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, Boy?” Bellatrix yells, which isn’t exactly true, but he’s never _really meant_ to before.  “You need to _mean_ them, Potter!  You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won’t hurt me for long – I’ll show you how it’s done, shall I?  I’ll give you a lesson –”  But at that moment, Harry hears screams of anguish and pain coming from the other room.  “Remy?” Bellatrix asks quietly, looking in the direction of the room, true concern and regret on her face. 

Harry listens to the screams and realises that they are indeed Remus Lupin’s.  Harry feels the rage within him change into a cold, dead, fury that someone has caused his Uncle such pain.  That someone has a face of regret, as though she has the right to feel _anything_.  She killed Harry’s Dad.  She hurt his Uncle.  She attacked his friends.  The feeling within him is so different to how he feels with the Killing Curse.  Everything seems still within him and all there is is this mad _need_ to see pain caused.  “ _Crucio_ ,” Harry casts, not in a yell, but a simple statement.  Bellatrix drops to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain.  Harry ends the spell, “That was just a taster,” He says darkly.  He feels intense pain in his scar and sucks in a breath, “The Prophecy is gone, and Voldemort knows.  What do you think he’ll say about that, then?”

“A time will come, Potter,” Bellatrix suddenly says quietly and… _sanely._ “Be ready.  Make it worth all of this in the end.”  As soon as the sanity appeared, it was gone again and Bellatrix howls in anguish, “MASTER I TRIED, I TRIED – DO NOT PUNISH ME –”

“Don’t waste you breath!” Harry yells, eyes screwed shut from the pain in his scar, “He can’t hear you from here.”

“Can’t I, Potter?”  Harry’s eyes snap open, meeting red.  “So, you smashed my Prophecy?  And my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again…”

“‘Let’ is a strong word, I didn’t exactly give them a choice,” Harry replies coolly.

Voldemort goes on to attempt to kill him again, Harry calmly lets the spell hit him without even flinching.  “You know, Einstein’s definition of insanity is trying something the same way over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“There’s no proof he really said that, Harrison,” Voldemort replies.

“It’s _Harry_.”

“It is _not_.”  Harry and Voldemort glare at each other for a few moments before Bellatrix suddenly shrieks in manic laughter.  The two look over and see her looking behind them. 

Turning again, they see Albus Dumbledore walk into the room.

“Headmaster!” Bellatrix greets, giggling.  “Long time, no see.”  Dumbledore looks mildly pained as he gazes at her, like it hurts him to see her this way.  Harry feels a sneer pull at his lips, because if Dumbledore cares so damned much then where was he when Sirius died?  When Cedric did?  He pushes the thought away.

“Hello, Miss Black.”

“Mrs Lestrange,” Voldemort corrects.

“Angling for Mrs Voldemort,” Harry mutters, he receives to exasperated looks.  Bellatrix, no longer being watched by either leader, shudders in revulsion.  When they look back, she’s looking at Voldemort with doe eyes.  Harry snickers slightly before he realises something. 

She hadn’t cast the Killing Curse.

She’d only meant to stun Sirius.

Something far more complicated is going on here than he knows, with both the light and the dark, and with her.

While Voldemort and Dumbledore duel, Harry locks eyes with Bellatrix. ‘I’ll make it worth it,’ Harry mouths to her.  She looks at him and Harry gets a minor look at the strong, intelligent, and caring person she’s pretending not to be.  She nods at him.

The next thing he knows his scar is exploding with more pain than he’s ever felt.  It’s somehow worse than the Cruciatus Curse, which is _literally_ the worst pain imaginable.

He could never have imagined this.

“ _Kill me now, Dumbledore…_ ” Harry feels himself say, but it’s not him, not really.  He can’t think, can’t workout what is happening, not with the agony of his scar.  “ _If Death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…”_ For a moment, Harry finds himself once again wishing that someone _would_ kill him.  Anything to make this pain stop, and then he’d see Sirius, and he’d see Cedric.  Voldemort would be defeated, everybody wins.

 _Fight it, Harry._ Harry blinks, his eyes open for a moment before the blinding agony takes hold again.  _You have to keep fighting, Harry._

“Cedric?” Harry asks, knowing it was said quietly, but out loud. “ _NO!_ ” He feels himself say, but once again it is not him speaking.

_I know you can do it, Harry.  Don’t give in._

Harry feels tears falling down his face.  “Cedric, please,” Harry whispers, wanting to give in, wanting it to be over.  Harry opens his eyes.  He’s not in the Ministry anymore, he’s in his Cupboard at the Dursleys, and Cedric is sitting on his bed.  He leans forward from where he too is sat on the tiny, flimsy, lumpy, mattress. 

Cedric holds him, running a hand through his hair.  “You have to fight back, Harry.  You have to kick him out.”

“I’m not strong enough,” Harry tells him, not just talking about Voldemort’s possession of him.

Cedric pulls back, cupping Harry’s face and smiling lovingly at him.  “You’ve been alone for most of your life, Harry.  Remember that you are the one who got you through years of pain and fear, of loneliness and heartbreak.  You are the one who fed yourself, clothed yourself, tucked yourself into bed, and still kept moving.  Through every nightmare and panic attack you picked yourself back up and never once have you jeopardised who you are.  Having the strength to take care of yourself when everyone around you is bleeding you dry, _that_ is the strongest thing in the universe.  If there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you have an inner strength the rest of us cab only dream of.  Find it, use it, you’ll make it through,” Cedric tells him.  He leans their foreheads together, “I believe in you, you only need to believe in yourself.”

Harry sobs slightly, nodding as he pulls back.  When he opens his eyes, he’s back in the Ministry, and the pain in his scar has faded away once more.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Dumbledore asks him, face close to his.

“Yes,” Harry replies, shaking rather violently.  It’s all over now, the crisis is dealt with, and Harry is once again hit with the knowledge that Sirius is… “What happened to Professor Lupin?  We heard him screaming.”

Dumbledore looks around awkwardly before clearing his throat, “Remus cared for your God-Father very much.  He will be fine, he just needs time.”

He doubts that very much.

 

Harry trashes Dumbledore’s office.  A lot.  And vaguely threatens to attack the man.  Several times.

He finds himself no less angry after that, but at least now he is aware of what is going on.  Know what has been kept from him, though Dumbledore neglected to mention Sirius is his Dad.

For once, though, Harry has to concede that he has a point this time.  If Harry did not already know the truth, telling him now would do him no service.

 

Sitting in her room at home after school finishes, Hermione wonders why her par- why the Grangers, had come to the train station at all.  Why not just have her Social Worker meet her there?

Hermione wipes away the tears on her face as she packs everything important to her into her school case.

She had known, of course, that McGonagall would tell her parents about the drugs after Harry, Ron, and Ginny had taken her to the hospital.  She knows that they’d had no choice, but that doesn’t make this hurt any less.

 _“We gave you_ everything _Hermione, we thought you had changed.  We thought you were trying to be better because you cared for us, as we cared for you!” Hugo Granger yells._

_Hermione flinches, “Dad, I’m sorry.  I promise, I’m clean now and –”_

_“But for how long?  How long until you take the money we give you, the freedom we let you have_ despite _your history, and squander it all away along with the trust we placed in you?!” Hugo shakes his head, “We loved you, Hermione, but this isn’t the life I want to lead.  I wanted a daughter, but we were obviously too late in taking you in.”_

_Hermione’s eyes widen fearfully, “Y-You’re sending me back?” She asks as tears fill her eyes._

_“You’ve left us no choice,” Hugo replies._

No amount of pleading changed his mind, and Jean merely stood in the background saying nothing.

The door to her room opens and her Social Worker walks in.  Hermione looks guiltily at her suitcase and back to her Social Worker.  “Mrs Pattriks.  I…thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”

“I assumed, quite correctly apparently, that you would try to run again if I waited that long,” Mrs Pattriks replies.  Hermione looks to the ground.  She wipes away more tears before feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder and she looks up again.  “You aren’t going back to the Orphanage.  I found another home for you, I called on the way here and they’re happy to take you in tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow afternoon.  We’ll get all your stuff tomorrow but for now…” Mrs Pattriks looks at her sadly, “Well, I thought you might just like to get out of here.”

Hermione nods tearfully, “Please.”

“They don’t want to look after a child, Mio.  They want a daughter, they asked what the chances are that you’ll want that too.  If you’ll want to use their last name, the usual things first time foster parents say.  I gave them all your usual answers but feel free to correct any of it when we arrive.  I know things were different here with the Grangers and you might have changed your –”

“I haven’t,” Hermione interrupts, “Apparently I meant no more or less to the Grangers than I have every other time.  So it’s not different.  Only more drawn out,” She states harshly, “So, what’ll it be this time?”

Mrs Pattriks looks on in sympathy before nodding and taking a deep breath, “Hermione Antlia Willows.” 

“Hermione Willows,” Hermione repeats, rolling it around in her head a few times.  “I suppose it’ll have to do.”

“Come on, Mio.  Time to go.”

 

After the odd interaction in the train station between Aunt Petunia and Remus, not to mention Moody threatening all three Dursleys, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s fight, Uncle Vernon drives them all back to Privet Drive.

On the way, Harry can’t help but agree with what Remus had said to his Aunt Petunia.  The World Isn’t Kind, that much is fairly obvious.  He’s punished when he gets home, of course, because of the way Uncle Vernon was treated by the others.  Then Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have a big fight.  Dudley blames Harry for that and that ends very painfully for him as well.

Harry supposes that, all things considered.

He’s really An Unlucky Fellow.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES:
> 
> Okay, so, I owe everyone an apology. The next instalment was supposed to be the actual story but I was having a lot of trouble moving from The Boy Who Never Cried Wolf to The World Isn’t Kind. Now the reason for that is I was struggling to write from Harry’s perspective but written in a universe created from Remus’ perspective. So I decided to write a short prequel (I promise, it’s not like the last time I thought that and ended up writing the entire last story, this one is only 7 chapters long). Anyways, I’ve found it’s helped a lot and I’ll be back to writing The Word Isn’t Kind come 2019.
> 
> In any case, I hope you all enjoy this! Sorry again that this is not the continuation of The Boy Who Never Cried Wolf. And, of course,
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
>  
> 
> ~Ace


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